Benjamin Veatch

Ben Veatch was an honest friend, loving spouse, and quick wit. He was irreverently funny, genuinely curious, a natural listener, a new-experience seeker, compassionate, and nobly consistent. He died unexpectedly from an aortic tear or abdominal aortic aneurysm, causing his heart to stop in the emergency room, on Wednesday, December 17, 2025. The official cause of death is "organic cardiovascular disease," a blanket term for any number of health events. Regardless of the specific cause, he was too young and too good.

He was born in Los Angeles, CA, to his late mother, Etsuko, and his father, Richard, on March 7, 1970. Etsuko met his father, on base, while he was in the Air Force, stationed near where she was from in northern Japan. This match produced undeniably "gekikawa" (super cute) children. They moved around the country as his father's career developed, eventually residing in Arlington Heights, IL.

Ben lost his mom to cancer when she was 56. This grief became a part of him and, whether he was conscious of it or not, it gave him clarity around what was important to him. He was self-effacing and considered himself unambitious, but in reality, he worked hard at everything he did-being the "reliable one" in every job, relationship, or creative project. He called himself a bit misanthropic, while anyone who encountered him felt seen and perhaps even more interesting. He was committed to learning and admirably humbled himself to the process. He loved life.

Ben cherished his family from the United States and Japan. He credited his mother, for his creativity and genuine interest in getting to know people. He credited his father for his dry sense of humor and admired his "Pop's" life experience-from his years in the Air Force, to his television studio production skills, to his world travel and Olympic adventures during his marketing career. Ben looked up to his younger brother as the smarter, more driven adult who he hoped could see himself with the same sense of pride. He regarded Anne, his wife, his better half, but the feeling was mutual. He told Anne he loved her every day over the 20 years they were together.

Ben's friends and loved ones can attest to his sense of humor. He never took himself too seriously. He was in a sketch comedy group many years ago, called AfterTaste, and took risks with his writing, often darkly funny and absurd. His favorite photos were the silliest or most shocking. He got a jump scare out of Anne when he put a photo of his head in a jar in the fridge. It remained there for a year.

Ben worked in an office job for nearly 25 years. But his heartfelt passion and true profession (though he would never call it that) was as an actor. He was active in Chicago's storefront theatre community for nearly 30 years. His favorite experience on stage was at The Gift Theatre in the play The Rise and Fall of Little Voice by Jim Cartwright. All of the planets aligned in that production, and he was very proud of the work they did.

He and Anne met as actors in a play together and, over the years, had the privilege to tread the boards together in five different productions, with the last being Promethean Ensemble Theatre's production of The Book of Will by Laura Gunderson. This was his last time on stage, and there is now a deeper meaning carried by the words Ben spoke as Henry Condell about why we go to the theatre, "...to feel again. And you will test your heart against trouble and joy, and every time you'll feel a flicker or a fountain of feeling that reminds you that, yes, you are yet living. And that is more than God gives you in his ample silence. And then it ends. And we players stand up. And we look at the gathered crowd. And we bow. Because the story was told well enough, and it's time for another." In the same play, Ben shared a eulogy as Henry, for an actor and friend: "A man who lived so many lives on stages across this country that all of England pauses in their pain today. We who knew him well will never know another of his kindness, his caliber, and his art."

Ben's passing has been felt by many who knew him, and his life lived has left his loved ones forever changed. He carried his late mother, Etsuko Royster, late stepfather, Leighton Royster, and his late stepmother, Kathleen Veatch, in his heart. He is survived by a loving family including his wife, Anne Smith; his father, Richard Veatch; his younger brother and his brother's family; extended family in Japan; his parents-in-law, Randolph Smith and MaryAnn Docktor-Smith; Deborah Brown; his sister-in-law and brother-in-law, Jennifer and James Hupp; and Ben's good boy, Dobby the dog.

A Celebration of Life will be held in Chicago in late spring or early summer 2026. Details and location will be announced.

In lieu of flowers, the family asks that you consider making a donation in memory of Ben Veatch to Season of Concern, which provides emergency financial assistance to Chicago theater makers facing a variety of challenges, including mental and physical health needs.

Please share a story, moment, or sentiment about Ben. This link will take you to the Book of Stories where you can add your entry to be bound into a keepsake book. His wife and family will treasure your memories.