When I think of our Jammin (Ben”Jammin”), I remember so many beautiful things, especially his determination, fun-loving ways and his great work ethic. He was honest. He cared about people and things. He had passion, and a stick-to-it-iveness that is very rare today. The picture below encapsulates that for me. This picture is a simple picture, but its a great representation of Jammin. All it’s missing is his guitar (I so very much miss his beautiful music), a light saber, his dog, and his lacrosse stick. I’m Ben and Nolan’s mom, Annie. Hello. Still a little surreal that I am writing about this, but it helps to share. Ben is on the right and his twin brother, Nolan, is on the left. This was a typical night in our home filled with homework, food, music, laughter, and love.

Ben and Nolan were both in the Engineering Department at CU on February 4, 2017 when the boys were in a terrible car accident. They had both come home to help with moving into our new house. It was a fun morning — we laughed and talked and stood around the kitchen island fixing lunch, talking about Ben’s training for an Ironman (he had swum 3 miles that morning) while eating pistachios. For some reason, I remember that part… Ben and I eating a lot of pistachios. I still have the spent shells in a plastic baggie hidden on the top shelf of my pantry (something that for some reason and haven’t been able to throw away). We decided to take a break and started off on an afternoon drive to pick up a garage fridge off of Craigslist. My husband Jeff and I were in the moving truck and Ben was driving the car behind us. Nolan, being a life-long car sleeper, must have been asleep as he sat shot-gun in the car. We took a scenic back road, filled with slow winding turns. It was a beautiful, clear, sunny day. Twenty minutes into our drive in that big truck, I remember looking back in the side mirror and I couldn’t see their car. I called both of their phones and there was no answer. I checked “Find My iPhone” and saw that they were a few miles behind us. My heart immediately sank. We turned around and quickly saw emergency lights. Oh, how I now HATE emergency lights. Ben had fallen asleep at the wheel. No swerve marks, no break marks. They had just kept going straight when the road curved. The car flipped over into a ditch. It was a horrific sight. I am holding my breath even now, remembering it. The car was unrecognizable. I stood there screaming, crying, and watching in disbelief as the firefighters got both of my boys into ambulances and drove them off towards the hospital.

We were told there had been no alcohol, no drugs, no distracted driving (I could’ve told anyone that — if you knew Ben, you could have, too). He simply fell asleep. Our baby never regained consciousness. Surgery couldn’t save him and Ben left us later that night with me holding his left hand and his father holding his right. Before he left, we whispered encouraging words into his ears and I blessed him with the sign of the cross on his forehead as we usually do when we leave on a journey or when someone needs extra help. Just one week prior, to encourage me to be strong during the move, he had written down the poem Invictus from memory and handed it to me. I had only yet memorized the last four lines. I held Ben’s hand and reminded him to be strong and recited those last four lines, ending with “I am the master of my fate, I am the captain of my soul.” We had enough time to call Father Craig who read him his last rites. Although we had a bit of time, it all happened in a sudden blur and much too quickly. Those in the waiting room heard the “code blue” and when we returned to the waiting room that was filled with family and friends in disbelief.

So much of it was a blur, so surreal. I remember my overwhelming desire to make sure that we didn’t lose Nolan, too. As we held Ben’s hands at the end, Nolan was in surgery and I told Ben that I would tell Nolan that he loved him and reminded Ben that Nolan loved him, too. Then he was gone. Some super human power then took over and I knew I had to keep going to care for Nolan who was not out of the woods yet. He was badly injured and we stayed by his side day and night in the hospital for a week. I am happy to tell you that Nolan has since made a strong recovery, went back to school, and graduated with a bachelor’s degree.

During those days in the hospital, many people came to support Nolan and grieve for Ben. The staff was wonderful and gave us a large room to allow for the amount of people that were coming by as well as to allow his dad and I to sleep in the same room as Nolan. Then people started asking, “what can we do for Ben?” Even with our muddled brains, we immediately came to the conclusion that the best way to pay tribute to Ben would be to set up a scholarship to benefit students in the aerospace engineers program at the University of Colorado, Boulder in his name. Ben LOVED learning. Both he and Nolan were blessed with brilliance. They amaze(d) me with their explanations of new concepts. Ben was one of those young children who liked to take things apart just to put them back together again. “Can I take this TV apart Mom?” He was constantly searching for answers to everything. Experimenting, creating, doing. He absolutely LOVED physics — he said it just made sense to him. He contemplated being a professor. He would have been a great professor. His classmates told me how he would find different ways to explain concepts during study groups to help everyone understand the subject at hand. He had a certain expression of joy or satisfaction when he knew that you “got it”. Makes me smile to see that expression in my mind even now. At his funeral service, there was a story told about “one time when Ben and Nolan argued about dirt for an hour.” That was true. He was passionate about science. About the how and why. If you didn’t know him, I tell you now, he was amazing.

On May 9, 2019, The University of Colorado Aerospace department honored Ben and our family by awarding him with a degree in Aerospace Engineering. I'm sure you can understand how much that meant to all of us. For someone who found so much joy in learning, earning this degree would have been a marker for who he was in life. A significant life achievement. He would have been so proud. One of his best friends spoke to those in attendance about Ben's special qualities and his brother Nolan donned a cap and gown for Ben to accept the degree from Dr. Argrow on Ben's behalf. Ray and I were called up on stage as well and I shared with the graduates, that because Ben is no longer here, we would be watching all of them to see all of the wonderful contributions they are making to our world and what light they will bring to our universe.

So, here we are over two years later and we are continuing in our efforts to to add to the generous donations that came in the year after the accident. Our foundation has a goal to raise at least $100,000 to this endowed scholarship fund. As of this writing, we are over half way there. (Thank you everyone!)

The Benjamin Ollada Foundation is planning fundraising events on an on-going basis and hopes that you will come and be a part of the efforts to add to the scholarship at CU in Ben’s name. If you would like to assist the foundation in any way, we'd love it! It would help our cause if you would dedicate yourself to doing something nice for our world and maybe think of our Jammin when you do so. Love and light to you. - Annie