Every gift made through the Benjamin Benefit Foundation carries layers of emotion—hope, heartbreak, and healing. The opportunity to provide Isaac with a safety bed came at a moment when doubt and grief weighed heavily, becoming a powerful reminder that Benjamin’s memory continues to inspire love, compassion, and tangible change.
When the Benjamin Benefit Foundation helped fund a safety bed for Isaac, the impact reached far beyond his family—it also resonated deeply with me as Benjamin’s mother. Improving the daily life of a child facing challenges so similar to Benjamin’s is profoundly meaningful in itself. As a parent of a child with complex needs, I could empathize with the anxiety and exhaustion Isaac’s family must have endured. I can only imagine the countless restless nights spent worrying because Isaac was not safely secure. Obtaining a safety bed not only ensures his protection, but also brings his family the gift of rest and peace of mind, positively impacting the entire household. Knowing we could help ease that burden—making something as simple as bedtime safer and less worrisome—made this gift especially momentous. Even more, the timing of when I learned about Isaac’s need made fulfilling it feel all the more compelling.
The events our foundation hosts always stir a mix of emotions in me. On one hand, I am continually amazed, humbled, and inspired by the collective good I witness and the meaningful help we are able to provide. On the other, I cannot fully separate that good from the grief that birthed it: the loss of my son, Benjamin, a six-year-old boy with profound special needs. The kindness and hope created in his memory are extraordinary, but they do not erase the sadnessand anger that live just beneath the surface, often rising during these poignant occasions.
As Benjamin’s mother, the weeks leading up to our events can feel like an emotional balancing act—exciting yet unsettling, hopeful yet heavy. My feelings shift quickly, sometimes numb and raw all within the same day. April in particular is especially difficult: it carries both the anniversary of Benjamin’s passing and our largest fundraiser. This past April, one night hit especially hard. I found myself overwhelmed and discouraged, doubting the value of our work, obsessing over small details, and aching with the weight of missing Benjamin. Thoughts crept inlike: Does any of this matter? Does anyone really care?
It was in that low moment, while mindlessly scrolling through social media, that I came across a request to help a teenager named Isaac. He attends The Pittsburgh School for Blind Children, has Cortical Visual Impairment, mobility challenges, and—like Benjamin—would greatly benefit from a safety bed. This was not just a coincidence. A safety bed had always been on our radar for Benjamin as he grew, and now here was another child in need of the very thing we once anticipated for him. Because of the generosity surrounding our foundation, we were in a position to make it possible for Isaac. I knew immediately that we had to say yes.
Parenting Benjamin taught me to live in a constant state of alertness, tuned in to his needs through expressions, movements, and feelings, even without words. That connection didn’t simply vanish when he passed. In quiet, unexplainable ways, I still sense him—signs and whispers that remind me of our interconnectedness. On that difficult night, when I felt the most unsure, learning of Isaac’s need felt like one of those whispers.
Almost as if Benjamin himself was saying: “I am here in this one too. You can help here. What you are doing matters.”