“The Actual Weight”: The Weight of Benjamin Cole’s Stuff (Part 1 of 4)
Eyes ahead. Focus. Eyes ahead. Focus. Eyes ahead. Focus.
I don’t know where it all ends. I just know that it ain’t stopped. I must keep going.
When I got the first call, I didn’t know what to do. It’s Benjamin not Ben. Benjamin Cole was so very fragile. The Messianic delusions. The Bible verses. The shouts of God. They were incoherent…but…they were his. The calls kept coming. The words were different…but…they all seemed to be saying the same thing…help. I don’t think he thought he was going to get executed. In fact, I know he didn’t…or that’s what he said. Which goes far to explain why he waited until the last minute to find someone to leave all of his property to. In the end, he told me that I was the only one who answered the phone. I don’t know if that’s true. I just know that I answered. Nevertheless, I was aware that some stuff was coming. I had no idea what. It was devastating when Benjamin was executed. It always is. I never get used to it. I never will. When I called to schedule to pick up his property, I was told that it wasn’t ready. I’d need to wait a few weeks. Honestly, I forgot about it. There is just so much going on. It’s as if people are just lined up to be executed. I guess that’s exactly what it is. Nevertheless, I was planning to visit a couple of other guys who are scheduled to be executed when I remembered the Benjamin’s stuff. So, after a long day of visiting. I pulled up to the gate to pick up the stuff. Expecting a few bags, I was shocked when nearly five boxes came out. The entire back of my old SUV dropped under the weight of all the stuff. After some pleasantries, I was off. The road home was long. I kept my eyes ahead. By the time I got back home, I was exhausted. Yet, the weight of Benjamin’s stuff ever rested in the back of my mind. So, I brought it all in. One by one, I started to open all of his packets. By the time I was done, it was well into the morning. There was all sorts of stuff laid out in the floor. Seemingly endless accumulations of… Religious material. Hair clippings. Incomprehensible writings. Old food. Some personal correspondence. Dirty rags. I could hardly comprehend it all. The only conclusion that I could come to was that it was simply incomprehensible that a man this mentally ill was executed. Benjamin laid in my floor…or at least a physical representation of him…and stared back at me. In the mounds of stuff, I could hear very clear the cry of the departed, demanding that I don’t stop. I’m still in the floor…and though I’m going through my day today…I know that I will be for a long time. Benjamin still speaks…or at least his stuff does. Further. Faster. Stronger. Abolition. Now.
Eyes ahead. Focus. Eyes ahead. Focus. Eyes ahead. Focus.
I don’t know where it all ends. I just know that it ain’t stopped yet. I must keep going.
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