So, What Exactly is the Beniverse? 

There are three elements to what I call the Beniverse; a term I now use to describe the sum total of Ben’s influence on the world we inhabit.

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The first is the tangible physical record of who Ben was, and what he did while he was here.  It includes things like photographs and video footage, school reports and trophies, along with his clothing, books, and other personal possessions.

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The second aspect of the Beniverse ‑ less quantifiable, but arguably even more important than the first – comprises all of the memories held by those of us who came into contact with Ben, of the things he did and said, and the way he made us feel.

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The third, and likely the most difficult element of the Beniverse to explain, and for some to accept, I define as the ongoing relationships we have with Ben since his death, in whatever form those relationships may take.

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The concept of the Beniverse, and in particular this third element, was only formulated in my own mind some eight and a  half months after Ben’s death.  Up to that point, I had experienced all the normal feelings of pain and grief that were to be expected after losing one of the three most important people in my life. 

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On the morning of 16 October 2019, Ben’s 22nd birthday, I found myself, sometime around 4 am, in that delicate dreamlike state somewhere between sleeping and waking.  And it was at this moment that I experienced what I can only now describe as a form of revelation.  The powerful realisation which struck me then, and that has been acting upon me ever since,

was this:

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If I mourn Ben’s loss too deeply, and too often, then what I am really doing is focussing almost exclusively on his absence, and the effect of that absence upon my happiness and my personal welfare.  I suddenly understood, for the first time, that these are inherently selfish acts.  Not only that, but I began to appreciate that my preoccupation with my own grief was actively inhibiting my ability to connect with Ben, his memory, and his spirit. 

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As my brain continued to emerge from its slumber I made some decisions that I now believe were of great significance to my life going forward from that day.  Most importantly, I resolved that I would no longer focus my emotional energy on my own pain and despair.  Instead, I determined to spend my moments with Ben - and there can sometimes be hundreds of them in a single day - reflecting on all that he was and remains, and on the time we had together, in a positive way. 

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What I have discovered over time is that by remaining genuinely grateful for those 7,772 days we shared, and by carrying my precious memories of Ben at the forefront of my consciousness, without anger or bitterness, what I am actually doing is opening myself up to the possibility of an ongoing relationship with him ‑ now, and into the future. 

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I understand completely that not everyone will buy into the more extreme aspects of what the Beniverse means to me.  And that’s OK.  No-one else needs to believe in order for the Beniverse to hold true for me.  Nearly all of the Beniverse experiences you will read about here have been acutely personal – so how can I possibly expect someone who has not shared in those experiences to feel the same sense of powerful connection with Ben that I have derived from them?

But whether you accept all the elements of the Beniverse as I have explained them here, whether you choose not to, or whether, possibly, you await your own moment of personal revelation, in whatever form that may take, with an open mind, I would ask you to carry away one thought with you today. 

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If we continue to remember and share amongst us those things Ben did and said, and the way he made us feel, so that in time his influence passes to those who never knew him at all, and perhaps even to those who have not yet been born, the Beniverse, like the universe itself, can become an ever‑expanding entity; a thought that makes me extremely proud.