Sgt. Benjamin Timothy Kostich

put one in about telling my fretful female parental unit about pregnancy #2

I remember when I finally told my mother that I was pregnant with Emily ( my CCU-RN at Nashville's, Vanderbilt; my son is certified EPA and in H-vac.Still a very doggy family).

Lory, I'm not certain any longer what terms we last spoke on...at any rate, you were very compassionate and caring some time ago. I know how deeply you loved Ben-you were/are still, a wonderful mother. This pain stings; it rises up like a huge swelled wave, when we have just stabilized at the worst time;a part of us dies with them, so it seems. For all my studies at Loyola and the Medical College in theodicy and death/dying...I guess we all know it must occur at some juncture; however, it sounds to me as though your loss is one of those "out of order" losses-as in 'parents pass before children'. I have no answers, just questions. When I think deeply about life and get in a rut, I refer to C.S.Lewis. He loved his Joy so much-she suggested that the happiness in life is part of the pain at death. Perhaps we participate in death, as truly, a part of us passes with the loved one. If you haven't seen/read SHADOWLANDS, do when you feel up to it. My condolences (nice word, eh? Words are so pitifully inadequate.) For now , I wish you comfort, solace, and peace.

Death is such a painful thing but it's Even more painful when it takes someone so Young. Oh how I look forward to the time when death will be no more- Revelation 21:3-4. Please accept my condolences.

I loved Ben. I had some of the best times of my life with him, and he was instrumental in me becoming the man I am today. He was a truly talented musician. He had no qualms letting me know how un-talented I was musically or how big my head was, and I loved him for it. Our sense of humor was really in sync, and so much of what I enjoy is marked by Ben's influence. He was one of a select few people in this world that I knew I could trust and cared about me. A true lifelong friend who I'll miss dearly.

The year was 1986, and I was a Kindergartener. We had recently moved into my home on the corner of 74th and Orchard in West Allis, which was situated right next to the West Allis Public Library. I was playing in our massive front yard (massive to a five year old that is) and remember seeing Ben running ahead of his Mom as they began their two block walk back to their home. I ran down to him and asked if he could play. His Mother, massively pregnant with his little sister Bethany, and my mother, equally pregnant with my little brother Joseph, met for the first time, and it was here that our two families started to weave themselves together in friendship and love. The second phone number I ever learned was Ben's. We would phone, and less than 5 minutes later we would be together, having bicycled or dashed over to the others home. We would sleep over. Our families spent evenings together. As a latchkey kid I knew that if I ever had trouble getting into my own home that I would be welcome in theirs till my parents got home. Ben was one of the wittiest guys I have ever met, and he used his wit like a surgeon with a scalpel and no anesthesia-- he cut frequently and it hurt but the end result was often so hilarious that the laughter outweighed the pain. It was splendid to see him in action, wonderful when you were just a bystander watching, but as a friend you got cut as much as any enemy. It was absolutely worth it. The only real hiccup in our relationship was a year or so that he attended Heritage Christian schools with me. We became hated enemies. I prayed for him to suffer for the ways that he hurt me in school. Prayers that I regret to this day. But in hindsight, he was miserable, and he made me miserable because that was a way that he dealt with his pain- he shared it out. He moved back into public schools, and he reached out and healed our relationship. He regretted the pain he caused (I think he always regretted any real pain he caused,) and he always patched things up if we hit a rough spot. “John,” he would say, “we have been friends since kindergarten. There is no way I'm going to lose this relationship. We’ve just invested too much time to waste it.” We swore those oaths that young men do- oaths like “if you are ever murdered, I will be sure to avenge you.” We told each other that we would each be the other’s best man when we got married. We declared that “if you are ever in trouble with the law, I will be there for you.” We both took those oaths seriously, and to this day I judge my dearest friends on whether or not I would commit a felony on their behalf. I believe Ben would have died for me, and I surely would have done the same for him. We measured ourselves against each other, and neither of us ever found ourselves wanting. We often competed with each other: we would compare how cool our dads were- he maintained that even though my father was a Green Beret, his would win in a bar fight. We compared how crazy our mothers were, and we both agreed that mine was much crazier than his. We compared our military careers- he decreed that the Army was better and more manly than the Air Force, I pointed out he was in the band unit. Ben once told me I was one of the smartest guys he ever knew. Yet, when we talked on quantum physics, or abstract mathematics, or microbiology Ben was never lost- he always kept up with the conversation and rapidly absorbed the ideas. He was wise, and almost impossible to hoodwink- he would call bullshit at the drop of a hat. I think that Ben sometimes sold himself short, and that he was almost always secretly the smartest guy in any room. Ben was also compassionate. Ben was there for me when I was depressed, and always willing to listen, though he also administered the tough love of telling me to man up and stop being a wuss. He was one of the only people to write me letters when I went into basic training: and they were hilarious. After basic training, we lived together as room-mates for a couple of years, something that seemed like an awesome idea at the beginning but that drove us both a little nutty by the end. One day, he was lounging on the couch in his boxers and called over “Hey John, you want to see something funny?” I walked into the living room, pointed at his boxers which had, unbeknownst to him, come unbuttoned and splayed open at the fly, and said “What, that?” Ben then became the most brilliant shade of red I had ever seen. His mortified embarrassment was so amazing that we both laughed till we cried. He was never able to remember what he had actually called me over for. September 11th hit during that time, and I had to move out to prepare to go to war. We both agreed to never live together again, but that we had a great time while it lasted. We kept hanging out though. I would often go see his shows. I got to meet his bandmates – Matt and Dan. He always picked the best kinds of friends, and I always felt welcome among them. Over the years we played tennis, we played basketball, and we played a metric ton of video games. We drank together, smoked together, watched cheesy horror movies and Mystery Science Theater and Monty Python together. We talked politics, and were always on exactly the same ultra-conservative page. We were both equally pissed at the evils in the world, and both saw the same ways to fix them. I knew that if I didn’t know the candidates in an election, I could check in with Ben and his judgement would be absolutely sound. Even when we didn't see each other as often in our later years, as we moved about in our lives, we still would see each other online- covering each other’s butts as we shot terrorists or killed goblins, or protecting each other’s flanks in the myriad of strategy games we would share. We kept talking too. We would reminisce about old Sega Genesis games we played, or sleepovers where we would beat each other senseless with pillows shaped like Hulk Hogan and the Ultimate Warrior. He told me that he met a girl online and that he was going to move in with her and move out of state, but that he would keep coming into town for drill. I was a little hurt, because Ben had always told me that I was not allowed to move out-of-state because of our friendship. But, I figured one of those drill weekends we would hang out again, and catch up face to face. Looking back, I feel that I may at times have taken our relationship for granted. I wish I could have spent some more time hanging out with him. I figured we would catch up later, after all, we planned on being grumpy old men in a retirement home together. But I believe he would say that things were great the way they stood, and that he had no regrets. He would say that we had over 30 years of amazing friendship, of deep Christ-like love. And if he saw how much I’ve been crying over this, he would call me a wuss, and do it in his way that made it absolutely hilarious. Ben hated being weak and showing weakness. He hated losing, in all of its various forms. I think Ben, though he would have preferred to be with us for a few more years, would have hated growing old and weak and senile. This way he has become immortally young, taken in his prime, but preserved that way too. Preserved in our memories at his best. And as my absolute best friend.

Dear Lori: Prayers are with your family and his fiancee. Thank you for his service.

I don't think I was able to appreciate at the time what an amazing role model Ben was for me as a child. Ben was funny, gentle, intelligent, comfortable in his own skin, and passionate about his interests in a way that few boys and young men are, and was always kind to me during our frequent family visits growing up, even though I was 5-years his junior. All my love to his family and loved-ones during this tragic.

Our band , The Form was fortunate enough to have Ben play as a backup bass player on quite a few occasions. Ben was gifted in so many ways, but also mysterious and guarded to most people . We were lucky enough to see him with his guard down. My sympathies go out to his family and friends. I think we will always remember Ben's humor and quick wit from our days of playing with him. We hope that what we have learned from Ben such as the great gifts of music, friendship, conversation and good times will also help to heal your family's loss.

I am SO very sorry for your loss. There are no words. I send you hugs, love & prayers as you walk thru this journey.

My deepest condolences to you and yours! May the Dear Lord bring peace to your family and friends. My sympathy and prayers!

My hearts hurts for Brett and Bens family. Sending love and prayers.

Like many, I don't know how to process the sudden shock of Ben's passing. I first met Ben when he and I were both asked to perform music at a wedding in the summer of 2001. Afterword, we went over one of my original songs, and after listening just once, he had the whole thing memorized! I couldn't believe it, but knew I had found someone special. We soon put a band together and started playing out regularly. That band soon combined with my brother Dan Johnston's band which lasted for many years to come and branched out into other musical endeavors between Dan and Ben. Ben also lived right behind me for two years and we used to hang out often. Over the last 15 years, Ben has been one of the best band mates and friends I could ask for. He was always competent, never pretentious, and always committed to his friends, family and music. Ben will be surely be missed by everyone who was fortunate enough to know him. I wish his family, friends and fiancé my deepest condolences. I fear this will get worse before it gets better, as none of this seems real yet. I just pray God will give those grieving his peace that passes understanding in this difficult time. I love you Ben and will miss you always...

My heart sank when I first heard of Ben's passing. The positive impact that Ben had on so many lives will truly be missed. My prayers go out to his family and friends to comfort them during these difficult times. Rest in peace, my friend.

Our son, Hans, was a good friend of Ben's, and part of his Army Family. We extend our sincere sympathy.

Benny you will be missed deeply you were an amazing addition to my CO-worker and friend life you made her so happy there will not be a day we won't be thinking of you.

Ben was such a sweet and gentle little boy who grew into a fine young man. We will miss him until we meet again in heaven. We love our Kostich family friends.

Gods is with you All!!!

God Is it you ALL!!!

He made my friend Brett the happiest I have ever seen her. My heart aches with sadness for Ben, his family and friends.

Benjin Tiffy, our last words were just that, you said 'hello, Abenhoo' I said, 'hello, Benjin.' As we both smirked our Kostich grins. We had a wonderful dinner together and I will always be thankful for that. You deserve the best of the best. You are so loved.

Rest in peace my friend you will be greatly missed

Loryjean, I will never forget that day when I arrived at your house sobbing and messy. You held me in your arms and made me feel better. Then Ben came home and he played the piano while I sang and I felt my spirit lift. I have only one memory of Ben, and I am so glad that it is this one. Know that I am holding your heart in mine during these difficult days.

We love and remember Ben Kostich as a wonderful, funny and talented guy. We have known him most of his life, and will miss him tremendously. Love to all those who knew him and cared for him as we have. Peace to you, sweet Benjamin.

Please accept our deepest condolences for your family's loss.