Une Mortee Beau.
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Une mortee beau.
Ben Norby died yesterday morning of a Heroin overdose.
Well, two yesterdays ago, now.
And yet, still I find myself unable to move on, unable to function as before.
.
..
..
It sucks that someone so beautiful had to die so young.
Someone so full of life, laughter.
Heh.
He was probably the only reason I went to my confirmation classes....
I was pretty back then, but he was beautiful. I couldn't help but stare. I couldn't help but obsess. He had such a demeanor about him.. that of which attracted all around him. Even though he was a punk.. he got the church girls drooling. I couldn't help but desire to reach out and touch him. And yet there I sat, in my own zipper black jeans, my own punk attire. Long strands of black hair draped into my face, his bright blond locks glittering under the article lights of our confirmation class. Neither of us were paying attention. I sat against the wall, my too thin legs parted as I bounced my foot nervously. He sat twittling in the same "in a different reality" sort of way. When I would sniffle.. he would look my way accusingly, a half smile on his face, as if he knew the true reason behind the gesture. And yet I never noticed his bruises.
..We both were forced into the situation.. but once I noticed him.. I practically begged my parents to take me. I dated a friend of his; but only to get closer to his "cooler" crowd. It was an odd sort of "I'll do anything to get your approval" sort of relationship. It was a challenge, one I enjoyed.
.. he's still the reason I don't drink coffee today... thanks to our coffee contest back in the day.
It was our confirmation retreat. I was excited. A whole weekend with Ben. Who would have know we would have gotten snowed in. But it was more than I could ask for.
Although only a tiniest drizzle of white fluff when we went outside, the ground was lined with a thin layer of lite snow. We gathered the little we could in our hands and threw it at each other. I still have a picture. He's laughing, Kyle by his side. It was a surprise picture, their smiles were real. Even Kyle looked happy. Who would know that Kyle would turn into a Petifile, kidnapping a young girl and trying to violate her. He always was a dick...
By the next morning, the day we were suppose to leave, the cabins were feet deep in snow.
..A storm had passed over night.
They hadn't even expected any snow. No one was dressed appropriately. Girls brought flip flops. Sweaters, maybe.
After a path was cleared, we were all mushed together in one big room, the assembly room, which included an open area, as if we were to all sit together. The other half of the room was the dinning hall, however coffee was available at all times, and bountiless.
So there we were, all of us, stuck in a room for the next 9 hours. We couldn't go outside. We had to stay in the room. Since the retreat was "officially" over, we didn't have to follow curriculum any more. It was all up too us now. We sat in a little semi-circle, Ben, Kyle, myself, a few other punk kids, and two of my friends; secluded from the main group of people. We didn't quite fit in with the rest of the kids. Somehow, our differences had led us to form one group, with one striking similarity; our discontent of being in the situation. We sat and talked about mindless conversations, Ben and I only once falling into a solitary conversation about his band, and how I should "check them out" sometime. Occasionally, a few of the group members would get up and walk to the coffee table, the only other source of entertainment in the large open room. Somewhere between the 4th and 6th cup of coffee, Ben and I started to get competitive. Whenever the other one would get up to get another cup, so would the other. So it would continue on for the next several hours. We made a game out of it, trying to distract the other and then running over to the coffee dispenser before the other. Our movements were mirrored. It continued in such a frenzy that even to get up at all would mean getting another cup of coffee. It was hilarious, a childish yet irresponsible situation. We drank ourselves till we felt awful, and continued on even when the sound of coffee was no longer appetizing.
He won; who knew drinking 74 cups of coffee in less than a two day span and nothing else was even possible.
I came close though, I had 71.
We both were sick for a week.
Heh.
He wasn't really a friend to say..
although we did have some sort of friendship.
..but he will always be remembered.
And I think he was a good singer, even if his bandmates kicked him out.. which, was because of his drug problem, not because he didn't have talent.
I went to his shows, at least.
...Even if I can't go to his funeral.
This fact alone is what almost gets to me the most.
...I can't even be there to show I care.
Or that, I once did care.
All that is left is what remains in my memories.
...
...Today, in general, has not been a good day.
I have a very hard time coping with loss, especially those I am close too.
Thank God I haven't lost anyone like that, yet.
Even though it pains me daily to be so far away.
At least they are still alive, even if I sometimes seem dead to them.
I have seen death before, a few times around.
But Ben had been the first like him.
Ronnie at least was a father, he had experienced one of the great joys of life, even if he wasn't able to see his small children grow.
My great grandparents were old; and although it was hard to see the pain on my grandmother's face, the weakness I never knew existed in her, the life lift away from the hospital bed as a twitching body laid bedridden and pained... at least they had lived a long and decent life.
Ben.. Ben, had not.
He was eighteen.
..Life had only begun.
And I had seen part of it..
Even if my life didn't mean the same to him.
I have seen many deaths that do not relate to me, but these, although traumatizing, are far less impacting.
I've looked suicide in the eyes... have stopped others from staring into it's fiery eyes. It doesn't even phase me anymore.
...I will move on.
Death is just such an unusual matter, something hard to comprehend, to fully understand.
But like everything else in life...
we can go on.
..He will be missed.
Une mortee beau.
Ben Norby died yesterday morning of a Heroin overdose.
Well, two yesterdays ago, now.
And yet, still I find myself unable to move on, unable to function as before.
.
..
..
It sucks that someone so beautiful had to die so young.
Someone so full of life, laughter.
Heh.
He was probably the only reason I went to my confirmation classes....
I was pretty back then, but he was beautiful. I couldn't help but stare. I couldn't help but obsess. He had such a demeanor about him.. that of which attracted all around him. Even though he was a punk.. he got the church girls drooling. I couldn't help but desire to reach out and touch him. And yet there I sat, in my own zipper black jeans, my own punk attire. Long strands of black hair draped into my face, his bright blond locks glittering under the article lights of our confirmation class. Neither of us were paying attention. I sat against the wall, my too thin legs parted as I bounced my foot nervously. He sat twittling in the same "in a different reality" sort of way. When I would sniffle.. he would look my way accusingly, a half smile on his face, as if he knew the true reason behind the gesture. And yet I never noticed his bruises.
..We both were forced into the situation.. but once I noticed him.. I practically begged my parents to take me. I dated a friend of his; but only to get closer to his "cooler" crowd. It was an odd sort of "I'll do anything to get your approval" sort of relationship. It was a challenge, one I enjoyed.
.. he's still the reason I don't drink coffee today... thanks to our coffee contest back in the day.
It was our confirmation retreat. I was excited. A whole weekend with Ben. Who would have know we would have gotten snowed in. But it was more than I could ask for.
Although only a tiniest drizzle of white fluff when we went outside, the ground was lined with a thin layer of lite snow. We gathered the little we could in our hands and threw it at each other. I still have a picture. He's laughing, Kyle by his side. It was a surprise picture, their smiles were real. Even Kyle looked happy. Who would know that Kyle would turn into a Petifile, kidnapping a young girl and trying to violate her. He always was a dick...
By the next morning, the day we were suppose to leave, the cabins were feet deep in snow.
..A storm had passed over night.
They hadn't even expected any snow. No one was dressed appropriately. Girls brought flip flops. Sweaters, maybe.
After a path was cleared, we were all mushed together in one big room, the assembly room, which included an open area, as if we were to all sit together. The other half of the room was the dinning hall, however coffee was available at all times, and bountiless.
So there we were, all of us, stuck in a room for the next 9 hours. We couldn't go outside. We had to stay in the room. Since the retreat was "officially" over, we didn't have to follow curriculum any more. It was all up too us now. We sat in a little semi-circle, Ben, Kyle, myself, a few other punk kids, and two of my friends; secluded from the main group of people. We didn't quite fit in with the rest of the kids. Somehow, our differences had led us to form one group, with one striking similarity; our discontent of being in the situation. We sat and talked about mindless conversations, Ben and I only once falling into a solitary conversation about his band, and how I should "check them out" sometime. Occasionally, a few of the group members would get up and walk to the coffee table, the only other source of entertainment in the large open room. Somewhere between the 4th and 6th cup of coffee, Ben and I started to get competitive. Whenever the other one would get up to get another cup, so would the other. So it would continue on for the next several hours. We made a game out of it, trying to distract the other and then running over to the coffee dispenser before the other. Our movements were mirrored. It continued in such a frenzy that even to get up at all would mean getting another cup of coffee. It was hilarious, a childish yet irresponsible situation. We drank ourselves till we felt awful, and continued on even when the sound of coffee was no longer appetizing.
He won; who knew drinking 74 cups of coffee in less than a two day span and nothing else was even possible.
I came close though, I had 71.
We both were sick for a week.
Heh.
He wasn't really a friend to say..
although we did have some sort of friendship.
..but he will always be remembered.
And I think he was a good singer, even if his bandmates kicked him out.. which, was because of his drug problem, not because he didn't have talent.
I went to his shows, at least.
...Even if I can't go to his funeral.
This fact alone is what almost gets to me the most.
...I can't even be there to show I care.
Or that, I once did care.
All that is left is what remains in my memories.
...
...Today, in general, has not been a good day.
I have a very hard time coping with loss, especially those I am close too.
Thank God I haven't lost anyone like that, yet.
Even though it pains me daily to be so far away.
At least they are still alive, even if I sometimes seem dead to them.
I have seen death before, a few times around.
But Ben had been the first like him.
Ronnie at least was a father, he had experienced one of the great joys of life, even if he wasn't able to see his small children grow.
My great grandparents were old; and although it was hard to see the pain on my grandmother's face, the weakness I never knew existed in her, the life lift away from the hospital bed as a twitching body laid bedridden and pained... at least they had lived a long and decent life.
Ben.. Ben, had not.
He was eighteen.
..Life had only begun.
And I had seen part of it..
Even if my life didn't mean the same to him.
I have seen many deaths that do not relate to me, but these, although traumatizing, are far less impacting.
I've looked suicide in the eyes... have stopped others from staring into it's fiery eyes. It doesn't even phase me anymore.
...I will move on.
Death is just such an unusual matter, something hard to comprehend, to fully understand.
But like everything else in life...
we can go on.
..He will be missed.