This past Sunday seemed so perfect. I had been out on Friday and Saturday nights
for Highball. Next to Pride, Highball is
one of the big community events here in Columbus that I look forward to all
year. In fact, I might even look forward
to it more than Pride because, while I love the Stonewall Pride Festival, for
those of us who are active in the LGBTQ community, in addition to being a lot
of fun, Pride is also a great deal of work.
It’s exhausting. Highball is just
fun.
So, tired from being out late Saturday night, I slept in
Sunday morning. After I woke up about
11:00, I spent some time working on some reading for one of my classes. Later in afternoon, I got a shower. I have recently begun attending a new church
service in the evenings. It just works
better for me. So, many other days of
the week are filled with morning classes, coffee meetings, and other
commitments. I appreciate being able to
keep Sunday truly as a day that feels restful to me and enjoying a more
leisurely pace to the day.
The service began at
5:00 and ended about an hour later.
Within minutes of leaving the service, I received a text from a friend
asking me if I had heard the “awful news.”
I told him that I had not. The
next text from my friend would feel like a violent shaking of my inner being as
I read the words that told me that a young and dear friend had been killed in a
bicycle accident. I felt an emptiness
wash over me. Then, I got pissed. Why was he saying this to me? Was this a joke? It couldn’t be real. Why would anyone think this was funny? Then, the reality of it began to sink
in. Mind you that I went through this
strong and complex series of emotions within a handful of minutes. Then, as I was still processing, my friend
sent me a link to the news article about the accident. Any shred of doubt began to be pushed to the
side as I read the words. My heart began
to break even more as I began to imagine what those last few terrifying moments
of life were like for him.
As a person of faith, as a seminary student, and as someone
who, through counseling, hopes to be able to help others make sense of the pain
in their lives, I have to admit, in that moment, I was unable to help
myself. The so often asked question of
“Why do bad things happen to good people?” filled the central arena of my
mind. Why did this have to happen to
Ben? He was such a sweet kid. A student at Ohio State, I had driven him
back to his dorm many nights after volunteer nights at Equality Ohio. He had worked passionately as a part of the
Why Marriage Matters campaign. He had
even recently traveled with me to my hometown of Zanesville, Ohio to be a part
of some organizing there. What made Ben
even more amazing was that, while he was always willing to give of his time and
passion to causes that we important to him, he did so while balancing school
and multiple jobs, striving to get ahead and to build the life he wanted for
himself.
 |
| Ben Meyer 1995 - 2015 |
During the very early hours of Sunday morning, all of that
passion and drive was prematurely snuffed out.
The true and full impact of what he would have accomplished will never
be realized. I have suffered a great
deal of grief and loss during my nearly four decades on this planet, but the
death has rocked me significantly. I
have struggled within myself asking what I should do. Tonight, I just felt the need to express some
of this. Writing is my outlet and
sometimes putting the words on the page helps me to work through the emotions
that drive them.
Ben, I miss you. I’m
so sorry that, for whatever unfathomable reason, this had to happen. Know that you made more of an impact in your
brief time on this earth than many ever will.
When I was twenty years old, I was embarking on a journey to deny who I
was in an effort to create a version of myself that was more in keeping with
the expectations of others. You were
true to you every day that I knew you. I
admire your courage and bravery to be your authentic self at such a young
age. The world needs to be better for
young people like you. I commit to keep
doing the work that you were so passionate about and to do what I can to make
the world better for young LGBTQ people, for those who choose to travel this
earth in more environmentally friendly ways, and to work against injustice
wherever I encounter it. Your flame was
brief, but it was bright.
~ Culbs
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