Why I Will Wear a Tie for Ben Today

(Editor's Note: I don't normally write personal articles, I ask for the reader's indulgence)

17 Years old. A one-car accident. A life cut short all too soon. This is the reality that I had to face in 1993 when my friend James Evans died during high school lunch hour.

The story of James' death is eerily like that of Ben Albro. James was trying to get back to school after open lunch, a practice that allowed certain students to leave school for lunch hour. The car he was in took a turn too fast. James was thrown from the car. He didn't make it.

He was my friend through friends. A senior when I was a sophomore, he attended Shawnee Mission South, what I considered to be one of the most awesome high schools in the metro area. He was in the theater crowd at a school that had a repertory. He was incredibly quick-witted, quirky, and funny. And I went to his funeral when I was 15 years old.

Here's the thing about James. Though he will always be 17, those of us who crossed paths with him are different people because of that friendship. Quirky sayings, a hand gesture, these are some of the things I remember about him. They permeate my life. I remember him when certain songs come on the radio. I am goofy in public with my kids. I try to live honestly and openly. A lot of that comes back to the fact that I met James, and I lost him.

If there's one thing I could say to the hundreds and hundreds of people who are still in shock about losing Ben, I would say this:

• I am so sorry that you have to feel this pain that feels like it has no bottom. I wish no one ever had to experience the depth of sadness you are all feeling.
• Ben has affected not just his family and close circle of friends, but also a stranger who saw him having a blast at a restaurant. A judge who saw him at a rifle competition. A teacher who laughed at something he said.
• Ben will continue to form and shape people in ways that no one can fathom at this moment. He will be the reason that someone turns up a song a little louder, or laughs a little harder with their kids. Someone will be fearless in a way they never thought possible 20 years from now, and it will be because of Ben.

So today I'm wearing a tie. I wear a tie for Ben; I wear the tie for James. And I wear the tie with gratitude for the life I lead now because of all the amazing people I have been fortunate to cross paths with in my life.

Good-bye Ben, you will be missed. Thank you for everything you have brought and will bring to people you never even knew.