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Hunter McComb Benya

Obituary Condolences

Hunter McComb Benya Obituary
January 5, 1991 – March 10, 2018

Oh Hunter. How and where do I begin? This doesn't feel real yet. I don't know if it ever will. It feels like I'm shuffling through someone else's nightmare. Grief is infinitely weird but no one has ever told me that it makes your back ache, your throat rough, and your head throb. You were a force to be reckoned with and I spent so much time trying to reckon with you.
Thank you for taking care of me when I needed you. You paved the way for me, sometimes flying head first into hurdles only to bounce back and shrug, "looks good to me." You confused me with your positivity but it was always so enchanting to watch. If you were here you would tell me that this too would pass. You would make a joke, pull a face, put on a movie, tell me a story, do whatever you could to turn the tide for those around you. I don't know how to do any of this without you.
As we grew up, we both grew apart and grew closer. We hung out more, stopped retreating to our rooms. You swapped games of Crash Bandicoot for games of How Many Devils Can Be Advocated For. You doted on our youngest friends, always giving them nicknames like kiddo or Beanz. They adored you, my funny, strapping older brother. I hope you know they liked your nicknames.
Life got messy. We drove each other crazy and our parents crazy and I drove my friends crazy with all of it. There were times I threatened to filet you. I only threaten to cook things I love. Poodle stew.
I don't know how I thought this would end. I'm working on it, as per usual. I wish I could get your advice. It wasn't time, H. Time is a manmade concept, it's a thing, but you would have hated the idea of just sitting in a dark cave. You had to get out, you had to be free. You always had to be free. You were such a bright light and the world is dimmer without you.
I've always been lukewarm on the concept of Heaven but if I had to say what I hope yours is, it's this:
The beach, sunny SoCal. Perfect waves.
A racetrack where you can drive cars as fast as you want, get an adrenalin rush.
Hit something and bounce back.
Pies filled with secret ingredients.
And tacos, the ones with secrets from the women in El Super.
Creative solutions for mundane tasks; you didn't need to put that apple on the drill but you did and you subjected the poor peeler to it all. And it was grand.
A garage with sticky notes on the wall.
All with a bushy bushy blonde hairdo.
I don't know if I told you enough that I love you, but I hope that you knew I did. You are and will always be my big brother.
Love always,
Your little sister Phoebe

Hunter is survived by his mother, Vanessa, his father, Ben, and his sister, Phoebe. There will be a memorial for him on Saturday March 17th at 224 4th St, Manhattan Beach, from 2-5pm with a paddle out for him at 4th street at 2:30pm. The Benyas invite those who know them or knew Hunter to come and share that with them. If you would like to make a donation in Hunter's memory, the family asks that you donate to the Deity Animal Rescue ([email protected]). Hunter was a lifelong lover of animals.
Published in The Beach Reporter on Mar. 15, 2018
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