Today I visited Ben’s (my deceased best friend) childhood home. His sister, mom, and I talked for hours. We shared stories, discussed emotions, and contemplated on what it means to be dead and why death had to take our precious loved one from us so soon. It was therapeutic to be there with them. Four weeks ago (right after the funeral), I had to drive back to college and deal with his death alone surrounded by people who never knew Ben. It was nice being with his family because I was actually able to connect with people who knew him. They know and love Ben and that made all the difference. I can see Ben in his family and I hope they can see me in him.

I went upstairs to visit his room. Laying in his bed, I glanced over and noticed his phone, wallet, and watch sitting on his bedside table. It was shocking, honestly. His phone was smashed from the wreck. It wouldn’t turn on. His wallet still had money inside it, two $5 bills. And when I picked up his watch… it was still ticking. This was weird for me. I half expected it to be stopped, not working anymore. Ben stopped living and time keeps ticking. Life moves on without you.

This experience was symbolic for me. I am one of those people who takes meaning from every little thing. And this was one of those things. I just couldn’t believe his watch still worked. It should have stopped ticking. The band was broken, I assume from where they had to cut it off him. His phone was smashed and broken, why not his watch?

I guess what I’m trying to get out of this is the realization that Ben is gone and always will be, forever in time.