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♬ Inspiring and Motivational – Ben Dransfield

Reflections from March 13, 2022—Day 2 of my journey.

There are moments in life that redefine everything. Moments so painful, so unthinkable, that they split your life into before and after. These moments strip away who you were, leaving you standing at a crossroads, unsure where to go or how to move forward.

Losing our son, Maxwell Seraphim, was that moment for me. It was my turnback moment.

When we lost Max, we didn’t just lose our baby—we lost an entire future we had imagined for him. The hopes, the dreams, the simple yet profound moments that every parent looks forward to were suddenly gone.

That reality hit me hard on this day when I reflected on Return to Zero, a movie Sam and I had watched. The film chronicles the heartbreaking journey of a couple after their baby is stillborn. Watching their grief unfold on screen was painful because it mirrored so much of what we had already lived through. But what struck me the most was how the loss extended beyond the present—it was the loss of everything that could have been.

One of the moments I had dreamed of the most was taking Max to his first baseball game. I imagined it so vividly—holding his tiny hand as we walked through the tunnel, seeing the wonder on his face as the bright green field stretched out before him for the first time. I could almost hear the crack of the bat, the distant hum of the crowd, the smell of hot dogs and fresh-cut grass on a warm summer evening.

Baseball is more than just a game to me. It’s a connection—a bridge between generations. Some of my best memories are of my dad taking me to Yankees games, of sharing those quiet, unspoken moments that only happen between a father and son in the stands. I had dreamed of creating those same memories with Max. But that dream would never come to be.

The Crossroads of Grief

When you lose a child, you find yourself at a crossroads. You can let the pain consume you, allow it to break you down, steal your joy, and define you by what you’ve lost. Or you can choose to press forward, to fight through the unbearable, to find a way—any way—to turn that pain into something meaningful.

That day, as I sat with the weight of all that had been taken from me, I heard the voice of doubt creep in.

“Just take today off. One more day won’t make a difference.”

But then I thought of Max. I thought of the life he never got to live. And I refused to let his story be one of only loss.

So, I got up. I pushed forward. I ran on that treadmill, even when I didn’t feel like it. Because grief is heavy, but movement—no matter how small—is a way forward.

Turning Pain Into Purpose

For a long time, I thought motivation was the key to success. But motivation is fleeting. It comes and goes. Real transformation—true, lasting change—only happens when you have something deeper, something unshakable, something that fuels your fire even when you don’t feel like getting up.

That fire, for me, is Max.

That is why I made a promise to myself: I will be 1% better every single day, for him.

1% better isn’t just about the gym. It isn’t just about pushing physical limits. It’s a way of life. It’s about showing up when it’s hard. It’s about honoring the ones we’ve lost by living fully in their absence.

Max may never sit beside me at Yankee Stadium. He may never hear the crack of the bat or feel the summer air on his face as we watch the game together. But I know he is watching over me, over Sam, over his brother and sister.

And I will keep pushing forward, growing through what I go through, because his legacy is not just one of loss—it is one of purpose.

Because grief doesn’t have to be the end of the story.

Sometimes, it’s the beginning of something even greater.