Ben was and will always be my soulmate. Our love was instant, deep, and purposeful. From the moment we connected, it was clear that we were meant to push each other, grow together, and love each other fiercely. And to think, our entire love story began with a little app called Tinder.
Ben and I both swiped right—well, technically, my friend Casey or cousin Sara swiped right for me—but I’m so glad they did. Little did we know, we were about to become a Tinder success story. We exchanged a few messages, but Ben wasted no time planning our first date. He often teased me about taking a week to respond to his first message—I maintain it was more like three days—but either way, our conversation felt effortless. Always the gentleman, Ben offered to drive to me for our date. We chose William Jeffrey’s Tavern, a cozy Arlington, Virginia spot that would soon become our ‘place,’ the setting for many early memories. Our first date was at the end of September 2015.
The plan was for Ben to park near my townhouse, and we’d walk to the restaurant. But Arlington being Arlington, he couldn’t find a spot. I decided to hop in his car, hoping he wasn’t a weirdo—or worse, planning to kidnap me. When he pulled up and stepped out, my first thought was, “Oh, he’s handsome.” Then came the hug, and I thought, “Oh no, he’s shorter than me.” In hindsight, he wasn’t in his cowboy boots, and realistically, we were about the same height. Regardless, butterflies had taken over me from the start—and they never left that day.
At William Jeffrey’s, Ben opened my car door, held my hand, and we walked in together. The comfort and connection between us were instant. We hadn’t even been together ten minutes, yet it already felt so natural. We sat at a high-top in the bar area—our exact table still etched in my memory—ordered some food and beers, and talked for hours. I mostly did the talking, but I soaked in everything he said. We shared similar interests, aligned life goals, and even had the “Yes, I want to marry one day” and “Yes, I want children” conversations. Our only real disagreement? Hockey teams—I loved the Capitals; he loved the Penguins—but thankfully, that wasn’t a dealbreaker.
After the date, Ben drove me back to my townhouse. Neither of us wanted the night to end. As I thanked him and said goodnight, our eyes met, and we ended up making out like teenagers in his Nissan 350Z for what felt like half an hour. Later, I learned his foot had been on the clutch the entire time, causing his leg to cramp—oops. That night marked the beginning of our forever. I instantly knew Ben was my person, my love, my soulmate. And thus, our ‘BenAnna’ story began.
Fast forward to May 2018. Ben, a Sergeant with the USMC Reserves, had recently brought up the possibility of deploying to Afghanistan for a year. I remember bursting into tears. Deep down, I didn’t want him to go. But he wanted one final deployment before we started growing our family. He promised me he’d never miss their lives if he could help it, and he made me swear he’d allow a proposal before leaving. The timing, as it turned out, was perfect: we’d plan a wedding, get married upon his return, and then start our family.
On May 31, 2018, the happiest day of my life arrived—our engagement. I took the day off work so we could enjoy one last day together before deployment prep. I let Ben plan the day, and he took me to a lovely lunch before driving us to Bluemont Vineyard, one of our early date spots. When we arrived, he had reserved a table and a bottle of wine—something that immediately felt special. As a storm approached, we moved to the covered patio. Then, in the most unforgettable moment, Ben grabbed my glass, got on one knee, and proposed. I said “YES” without hesitation, and our future felt perfect—if only we knew how fleeting it would become.
April 8, 2019, is a day etched in my heart with unbearable clarity. It’s the day that stole Ben from me, and our shared future, leaving a void that will never heal. Ben, alongside two of his USMC brothers, was killed in action by a Taliban suicide vehicle bomber, just ten days before their planned return home. Our wedding, scheduled for October 12, 2019, was six months away. Ben was only 31, recently selected for promotion to Staff Sergeant, and full of life and love.
I remember my phone calls to him that day—the last “I love you” we ever shared. I recall each unanswered text, the gut-wrenching feeling that something was wrong. That evening, I went for a run; the wind and swaying trees felt like signs from him, preparing me for the impossible news. Every step was agony, every thought a reminder that my life could never be the same.
The days that followed were a blur of grief and duty: welcoming my love home at Dover, viewing his casket draped in the American flag, and attending memorial services leading to his burial at Arlington National Cemetery. Ben had always wanted this honor, to rest among patriots, though we’d imagined it decades from now. He was laid to rest with full military honors in Section 60. I visit often, sometimes with family and friends, sharing stories, memories, and his favorite Yuengling beer.
October 12 should have been our wedding day. Instead, I visited Arlington, holding our wedding bands, reading vows that carry my love and promise to him: to love, honor, carry on his legacy, and live fully for both of us.
Though our story was tragically cut short, I am endlessly grateful for the four years we shared. Many never find such a profound love in a lifetime, and I cherish that we did. I share our story to inspire others to keep fighting, keep loving, and remember that love never dies. Ben will always be a part of me, and I live for both of us.
We must remember them. Speak their names. Honor their legacies. Live fully, knowing tomorrow is not guaranteed.
Ben—you will always be my hero, my soulmate, my forever. I’ll see you again one day, my love.
