Earlier this year, I was honoured to be asked to read a piece I had written for this website, called Slate Grey Skies, at the funeral of Ben Hiscox. In front of the biggest gathering I had ever seen at a funeral, I somehow found the strength to get through it, without losing my way, without collapsing into tears. I now know why. It was never about me. It was all about Ben and the family and friends who loved him. They still do, more than ever. In their darkest hour, in the depth of their pain, we all owed it to them to stand strong and to be with them then and forever.
On Christmas Eve, the slate grey skies have returned. Not by way of supernatural intervention, but by way of the natural order. Although nature seems to know, it never does. It is the accident of the weather, just like the accident of our birth that put us here in the first place.
That so many of us have been embraced by the extended Hiscox family is remarkable. The reason by which it all came about we would obviously wish had never happened. Where I once had acquaintances, I now have friends for life. People I used to nod at in the street, I now warmly embrace. I have wiped away my own tears since Ben’s passing, but I have had more on my shoulder from people I suspect have never cried in public before.
And I have been reminded that there is nothing wrong with crying. It is not something I recommend on a constant basis because it often comes after upset and loss, but this is not reason enough to pretend all is well. Of course it isn’t. A life taken away, especially a young life, deserves and requires tears. There will be plenty more this Christmas.
Ben Hiscox, as we all know, was a larger than life figure in Stoke Gifford. We hear all manner of people described as legends, but you had one there with Ben. A loving, warm, family-loving, very funny, often outrageous, wicked prankster with a heart of gold; none of this begins to describe this man. And as we have said before, he was my best friend. He was everyone’s best friend. When you bumped into Ben – and I was forever bumping into Ben, it seemed – my mood would be lifted. That toothy grin, never far away and quite often a very amusing and, on a family website, an unprintable joke or witticism.
And I keep expecting to see Ben. When I walk down the street, I see someone in the distance and I think, “That’s him” and then I get nearer and of course it isn’t. But when I do feel close to him is when I see his bench. I have no idea how many times I have stopped by, walked by and sat on the bench on our village green. But never, ever, do I see the bench without thinking of the Gifford’s favourite son. And what are the feelings? Sadness, of course, but now and then someone tells me a Hiscox story and – oh dear! – I am able to laugh about it. I hope everyone can do that.
This is the first Christmas without Ben and I know it will be a difficult time for the family and his many friends. How could it not be? There might be an empty chair at the dinner table, there might be presents that might never be opened, there will certainly be tearful toasts to the life of this great man. Yes, this great man. This was no ordinary villager and yet his very ordinariness was what set him apart. I have rarely seen and known someone with more friends than Ben Hiscox. I have never met such a warm family who never deserved anything like this to happen. To me, they are all extraordinary.
Through the pain and tears, already the next generation is lining up behind us all. The extended Hiscox family, whilst mourning, have some very young ones to love and cherish in the same way as they cherish Ben. It is an enormous responsibility too, to get through the agony of loss and yet try, against all the odds and emotions, to carry on and to give the little ones the chance to shine, the chance to grow, the hope for the future.
Yes, I will raise a glass to Ben Hiscox. I will raise a glass to everyone I have got to know so well since the unimaginable happened. I am hugely grateful for what Ben Hiscox gave me. The people I have come to know so well have inspired me to try and do better myself. The love they give, to Ben, to everyone else in the group, is unconditional and, it seems, infinite.
Ben Hiscox reminded many of us how to love without pre-condition. He reminded us of the importance of family, that we should hold and embrace them because we don’t know what tomorrow brings. And at Christmas, the presence of those we truly love is more important than anything else. Ben has changed my outlook forever and I sincerely thank him for that. I shall still plough the same furrow, enjoying my life as best I can, but now I have a clear focus to do more to love and support my friends and family and to improve, where possible, the lives of others.
I thank Ben Hiscox for that, I really do, and the love I feel for his family is something that has been was unexpected as it has been wonderful.
The skies may be grey today, but soon they will be Hiscox blue.
Merry Christmas to you all.
