Ben Hiscox – four years on

Early on this day four years ago, my mobile pinged with text messages. I thought unaccountably that I had perhaps gained in popularity overnight. The reality was very different. Ben Hiscox, one of the nicest, funniest, most loving people I had ever had the privilege to know, had died. Stoke Gifford would never be the same.

A tragic accident playing football, the game he loved, and played better than most, ended a life so full of promise and hope. If life could be any more cruel, I do not know how.

I wrote about it on this blog. Somehow I felt compelled, inspired maybe, to write and write about this wonderful man who encapsulated all that was good about our village. He could dish it out, he could take it. He always, always made me laugh, whether that was at a football match where he would exchange banter with watching villagers or in the Beaufort Arms where the village meets. So many memories, so many stories – many of which are unrepeatable for a family audience – and so much love and affection.

Four years. Where on earth did that go? It feels like the blink of an eye ago when I was given the honour of my life to do a reading at the funeral. Close my eyes and it is 2015 again.

I pass the village green every day and there, in his honour, is Ben’s bench and Ben’s tree. Never a day goes by when I don’t think of him, which shows the value of the memorial. When I pass by of an evening and see a bunch of young scallywags, sitting on that bench slurping an illicit can of cider, as I am sure Ben NEVER did (!), I realise life goes on.

Four years on and the memories can make me smile. Because Ben Hiscox always made me smile and it doesn’t feel right that I can’t smile when I think about him.

My thoughts are with Ben’s wonderful family and closest friends today, as they are every day. And by sharing and celebrating Ben’s life with us all, they have greatly enriched our lives.

Ben will always be King of the Village, long after this generation has moved on. The love and spirit can never die.