Dear Ben

Dear Ben,

I’ve been to see you again this morning. You may think it odd that I should write to you like this since it is pretty obvious that I have no faith and no god and, moreover, losing you has strengthened my unbelief, not weakened it, but nonetheless I wanted you to know that we had not forgotten you, far from it.

Three weeks on and the flowers at the clubhouse have proved to be resilient. Naturally, they are not all in the pristine condition that they were when first laid but those beautiful colours still light up the field, even on yet another clear sunny day.

One question we have all been asking is this: why do so many good people leave us so young and so many bad people seem to live to be old? But I have thought about this, Ben, and I think I have an answer of sorts. Your tribute has been untouched since it was first started. The numbers of flowers and messages have grown and where some of them tributes have blown over or fallen down, they have all been restored. My fear was that some unthinking idiot might come along and vandalise the tribute, but to date my fears have been without foundation. And that suggests to me, once again, that my theory is correct the majority of people, the overwhelming majority of people, are good people and that those who do bad things are in the minority, a small minority.

You have given us perspective, my man. You have reminded us that we are not just individuals, but we are also a community. You did that just by being you; that funny, loving, caring man, who made everyone feel like they were your best friend. When I went to see you again this morning, that feeling had not gone away.

I like to visit you at the clubhouse. I know that the flowers and photos – and your little radio – will soon be gone, but I know plans are afoot to make a more permanent memorial. I even managed a little smile this morning, looking at you smile at another goal or with your family and friends.

Of course, I am not ready to smile all the time at your legacy, which will evolve over a period of time, but I can promise there is going to be one.

It was good to see you,

Love,

Rick

PS I swear this is true. I was playing a CD in my car called ‘State’ by Todd Rundgren. As I drove off, the track called ‘Sir Reality’ came on. Without permission, I reprint the music. If Mr Rundgren’s company objects and asks me to remove them, I will, but as a sop to them I urge all music fans to buy it.

no one ever lies
no one really dies
money brings you joy
girls are girls and boys are boys
the ocean has no salt
lack is all your fault
knowledge comes for free
surreality

cause now i realize
no one really dies
money brings you joy
girls are girls and boys are boys
the truth is plain to see
if you disagree
then you can join me
sir reality