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Thankful he’s still alive, a survivor of the Lewiston shooting has changed. But he’s also still relentlessly positive on the inside.

Keela Smith brushed Ben Dyer's hair back after he removed his hat and was about to say what he is thankful for.John Tlumacki/Globe Staff

See the Globe’s complete coverage of the Maine shootings.

AUBURN, Maine — For the first time since the shooting, Ben Dyer shaved Friday morning all on his own. It didn’t go as well as he’d hoped.

His girlfriend, Keela Smith, had to take over, so Dyer, who normally wears a full beard and mustache, is all salt-and-pepper stubble now.

“He has to learn to ask for help,” said his mother, Marsha Bishop.

“And I’m not very good at it,” Dyer added.

They were sitting around a table in Dyer’s kitchen Friday afternoon for a belated Thanksgiving lunch.

Bishop and Smith had spent the morning whipping up mashed potatoes, gravy, glazed carrots, and corn while a turkey finished browning in the oven. They were joined by Smith’s teenage daughter, Maci; her boyfriend, Chris Shahan; and Dyer’s children, 12-year-old Liam and 10-year-old Zoe. Smith’s dog, an anxious crestepoo named Lucy, padded across the floor.

Dyer, a survivor of the mass shootings in Lewiston last month, is learning to do things differently.

He was tossing beanbags during an evening round of cornhole at Schemengees Bar & Grille on Oct. 25 when a gunman burst inside, firing indiscriminately at patrons and staff. A bullet tore through Dyer’s right arm, obliterating the muscles in his tricep and bicep. He was shot again while covering his face, a bullet ripping through his left hand and then his right.

The gunman’s violent rampage at the bar and a local bowling alley ended with 18 people dead and more than a dozen others injured. Dyer survived in part by playing dead. He thought of his loved ones while he clung to consciousness, willing himself to live. He was hospitalized at Central Maine Medical Center for two and a half weeks, where he endured four surgeries. He was discharged to his home on Nov. 13.

Dyer with his son Liam and daughter Zoe.John Tlumacki/Globe Staff

Dyer is a changed man, on the outside at least. A ribbon of stitches stretches down his abdomen. His right index finger is gone. He can’t grip with his right hand. He can’t use his thumb on his left. His graying, tousled hair has been cut short because it’s easier to wash one-handed. He’s lost 10 pounds. Smith had to button the front of his flannel shirt. He has months of physical and occupational therapy ahead of him.

But Dyer is the same person on the inside: a relentlessly positive wisecracker who believes “something good” will grow from this tragedy.

“I still have a purpose on this planet for some reason, and I’ve got to figure out what that purpose is to make it a better place for people,” he said, seated at the head of his family’s Thanksgiving table. “There are things in life that you can’t control, and I can’t control the fact that I got shot and my limb doesn’t work correctly.”

He later cracked a joke about his missing appendage: “I still got the middle one and that’s all that matters.”

Before the shooting, Dyer would have considered himself a “young 47.” He liked to hunt, fish, and play cornhole. After the shooting, Dyer will still hunt, fish, and play cornhole. But he’ll have to learn to enjoy his favorite hobbies without the use of his right arm.

When he fishes, he’ll cast and reel with his left hand. When he shoots, he’ll aim with his left eye and pull the trigger with his left index finger. When he starts playing cornhole again, he’ll compete with the beginners. But he’s confident he’ll be back to playing against the best in the league.

Some things won’t change. When he snuggles with Zoe, she can still curl up under his left arm. His feet work fine, so he can still play soccer with Liam.

Gathered around the table, each of his loved ones said they were most thankful this Thanksgiving that Dyer is alive.

Dyer received an embrace from his girlfriend Keela Smith after the lunch.John Tlumacki/Globe Staff

“I’m still here. I’m still able to sit with my family and be part of everything and I might be different...but I’m not a different person,” Dyer said.

“I have to do things differently,” he went on. “All the other stuff we’ll learn how to do together.”

He picked up his fork with his left hand, cradling it carefully between his fingers, eating a little more slowly, a little more thoughtfully than he used to.


Deanna Pan can be reached at deanna.pan@globe.com. Follow her @DDpan.