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Ketch's 10 Thoughts From the Weekend (There's only one thought this morning...)

It is a terrible tragedy. My thoughts have been with all of the victims. My heart is heavy for the young people who lost both parents, and a sibling yesterday. Losing one parent is horrible. Losing both at the same time is shockingly heartbreaking
 
I debated on whether to share this or not but thought it would give a very small glimpse into the type of guy Kobe Bryant was.

It was late June 2010 and the Lakers had just won their most recent championship (I think it was 4-5 days earlier). Living in SoCal during that time everyone in the area was excited about the win. Some friends from Dallas were in town to visit and we decided to go out to dinner in Newport Coast at Javiers to have some Mexican food. Anyone who knows the restaurant knows it can be ‘a little bit of a scene’ and you can often wait for a table for hours.

As we were waiting, I noticed Kobe walk right by us as he was leaving the restaurant (hard to miss him). My son being born in CA and living in Orange County - he was a big Lakers fan although he was only 7 years old at the time. So I quickly grab him and walk out towards the valet stand so he can catch a glimpse. As we get to the curb, we see Kobe just about to hop into his Escalade and leave. He looks up and sees my son looking over at him and without a hesitation waves him over to say hello. I was able to quickly snap a photo which I’ve attached below (hopefully). You can see the excitement on my sons face being able to get a picture with Kobe.

I don’t know the guy and I know he had his ups and downs during his life but he undoubtedly left us with a great memory. You’ll be missed.

RIP Mamba
 
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I get that Kobe is a bigger than life person and thus all the focus on him and his daughter.

I have a 15 year daughter and I hope that the not so famous victims in this crash get their fair recognition as well.


Here in OC the others who passed are getting their fair share.
 
I debated on whether to share this or not but thought it would give a very small glimpse into the type of guy Kobe Bryant was.

It was late June 2010 and the Lakers had just won their most recent championship (I think it was 4-5 days earlier). Living in SoCal during that time everyone in the area was excited about the win. Some friends from Dallas were in town to visit and we decided to go out to dinner in Newport Coast at Javiers to have some Mexican food. Anyone who knows the restaurant knows it can be ‘a little bit of a scene’ and you can often wait for a table for hours.

As we were waiting, I noticed Kobe walk right by us as he was leaving the restaurant (hard to miss him). My son being born in CA and living in Orange County - he was a big Lakers fan although he was only 7 years old at the time. So I quickly grab him and walk out towards the valet stand so he can catch a glimpse. As we get to the curb, we see Kobe just about to hop into his Escalade and leave. He looks up and sees my son looking over at him and without a hesitation waves him over to say hello. I was able to quickly snap a photo which I’ve attached below (hopefully). You can see the excitement on my sons face being able to get a picture with Kobe.

I don’t know the guy and I know he had his ups and downs during his life but he undoubtedly left us with a great memory. You’ll be missed.

RIP Mamba


He did that all the time here in OC. He was the standard for someone famous that took the time out to appreciate what it could do for others even if was just a wave. I have so many good stories about him it’s crazy.
 
I appreciate this quite a bit, Ketch. This morning I heard the Alecia Keys tribute to him last night at Grammys. She called him a hero and I blanched at that a bit. He isn't a hero to me. He is a guy who was great at his job and it happens to be one that is fun to watch. That is it. I am sure he has done some great charitable things but most of us do relative to our means. We all almost feel like we know him and have memories of him (like when I watched him live destroy the Spurs in the WCF with Shaq back in the day) but we don't.

You know who he is a hero to? His kids and his family. But mostly his kids. They are the ones that have to live with the hole in their lives. Not us. Does not mean we can't grieve his loss and give him the respect that is due, but it should more serve to remind us to keep close the ones we love and treat them with kindness every day as you never know when it will end. It's easy for Kobe. He is gone with his daughter to the infinite. Those closest to him are left to mourn and miss him. For us, as you have so eloquently stated, it should serve as a reminder that nothing is forever even for the most visible among us.

I am resistant to the idea he deserves more than your average man who works and takes care of his family. In the end, all your are left with is those that truly love you. Kobe was a badass, and will be missed by many as he impacted the world and helped us forget our worries for 2 hours at a time on the hardwood. Pray that his family and especially his kids find peace.


He is a hero to thousands of young people where his schools and camps went beyond just basketball. Gotta be close to 100 of today’s NBA players are in debt to him for all levels of advice.

To my one friend who had his son kidnapped and killed, Kobe went out of his way to help find him with his social media fame. No one even asked him for help. Go watch him directing traffic in all places a foggy hill in Newport after a bad car wreck.
 
He is a hero to thousands of young people where his schools and camps went beyond just basketball. Gotta be close to 100 of today’s NBA players are in debt to him for all levels of advice.

To my one friend who had his son kidnapped and killed, Kobe went out of his way to help find him with his social media fame. No one even asked him for help. Go watch him directing traffic in all places a foggy hill in Newport after a bad car wreck.

It’s good to know he was a good person and did the right things and went above and beyond the call. Lots of folks do that.

“Hero” is great than “role model” and I think we need to be careful with its use.
 
ee0e3a40b744e2eebc3b4d949eaa9055x.jpg

It wasn't until Monday morning that I think I fully understood it all.

Sitting in an elementary school cafeteria on Monday morning, watching my twin five-year olds eat Coco Puffs and Cinnamon Toast Crunch, I couldn't quite shake the profound sadness that had drenched my soul in the aftermath of learning that a helicopter carrying Kobe Bryant, his second-oldest daughter Gianna and seven others had crashed into a mountain the day before, killing everyone on board.

I just stared at my children and tried to soak in the innocence that exists in the hearts of kindergartners. Looking at Haven, I realized that her fingers were blue and a smudge of blue was on her cheek. Where the hell did it come from, I wondered to myself. It hadn't been there this morning when I woke her up. I don't even remember her having it on her face when we left for school. Was it toothpaste? No, that wouldn't explain why it was all over her hands.

While lost in about 10 seconds of blue smudge thought, I came out of my daze when Haven leaned into me and whispered, "I don't want you to go. I want to stay with you forever."

Right then, right there ... it all became obvious.

This wasn't about Kobe Bryant the basketball player. While I've always respected the hell out of Kobe's greatness as a player, I wouldn't ever say that I was a fan.

This wasn't about Kobe Bryant the person, which is a conversation that includes many complications, especially when trying to balance all of the positive stories that can sometimes make you forget that something happened in Colorado more than a decade ago that is quite complicated and every bit as much of his story as an NBA Finals MVP.

What this was about was a man and his daughter, lost together in almost unspeakable, horrifying fashion. When the news first hit social media on Sunday, the first image in my mind was that of a scene from last month when Bryant had been sitting courtside at a basketball game with Gianna, teaching her a lesson that must have been so unique and special to them.

giphy.gif


Nothing can humanize a person quite like the sight of them engaging with their kids, as it's the most relatable thing we can share with another person. The fear. The devastation. The loss. The aftermath. Somewhere at the exact moment that the world learned of Bryant's death was a wife and three daughters that were in the midst of a change in their lives that won't ever be made right.

Before this horrifying moment could even sink in, a report emerged from ABC that all of Kobe's children had been on the helicopter with him, which was almost too much to take, as the little voice in my head screamed, "God, no!"

It was all so confusing and I didn't know anyone involved. Imagine what it must have been like for the family members of those involved in the crash, forced to learn about your world changing through social media or frantic text messages or some means none of us can comprehend.

Moments later, it was confirmed that 13-year old Gianna had perished with him and time just seemed to stop.

All I wanted in that moment was to hug my kids and never let go, but they weren't at home. Eventually, when they did return home from a trip to Barnes and Noble, I clutched on to them with an urgency that I don't ever remember. There's something that happens to you as a human being the moment that you have a child and that change seemingly lasts the rest of your life. All you want is to provide safety for your children at all times and nothing seems more haunting that the idea of not being able to pull it off.

That thought is the thing that I still can't shake this morning. A helicopter full of parents and children crashed into a mountain, and I'm haunted as a human being by the fear that must have existed in those waning moments, along with the helplessness. You dream about your kids playing sports, going to college, getting married and eventually having children of their own.

This moment in time is a reminder that none of those dreams can be taken for granted.

Ever.

As I walked my kids to their classroom ahead of the 7:45 a.m. bell, I hugged my kids again before they walked into their classroom. Just as they were about to disappear into a Monday or learning to read and write, Hendrix stopped in the doorway of his class room and turned around. Out of nowhere, he ran to me and jumped into my arms, telling me that he loved me and would miss me while he was in school.

It was everything I needed. It was everything I wanted. It'll stay with me all day.

While I count my blessings, my heart aches for those that won't have those hugs this morning or this afternoon or ever again. None of this will ever make sense. None of it will ever go away. None of it can ever be overturned.

The lasting memory of one of the greatest basketball players that ever lived is of him as a father, unable to control life at the end after seemingly spending the majority of his 41 years on this earth doing exactly that with a dedication that those who knew him best often mentioned was incomparable.

We're all mortal, even those that sometimes seem to be made of something quite the opposite. With that knowledge reaffirmed over the weekend, here's to vowing to make the most of the moments we all have left - whether it's a day, a month, years or decades.

Once gone, it's gone forever and can never be replaced.



So, go hug your kids. Call your parents. Tell a long lost friend that you love them and miss them. Seize the moment today.

Now!

Don't wait for a day or time that isn't guaranteed.

Rest in peace, Kobe, Rest in peace, Gianna, Rest in peace, John. Rest in peace, Keri. Rest in peace, Alyssa. Rest in peace, Christina. Rest in peace, Sara. Rest in peace, Payton. Rest in peace, Ara.
It won’t only stay all day with you, my man. It will stay with you forever.
 
ee0e3a40b744e2eebc3b4d949eaa9055x.jpg

It wasn't until Monday morning that I think I fully understood it all.

Sitting in an elementary school cafeteria on Monday morning, watching my twin five-year olds eat Coco Puffs and Cinnamon Toast Crunch, I couldn't quite shake the profound sadness that had drenched my soul in the aftermath of learning that a helicopter carrying Kobe Bryant, his second-oldest daughter Gianna and seven others had crashed into a mountain the day before, killing everyone on board.

I just stared at my children and tried to soak in the innocence that exists in the hearts of kindergartners. Looking at Haven, I realized that her fingers were blue and a smudge of blue was on her cheek. Where the hell did it come from, I wondered to myself. It hadn't been there this morning when I woke her up. I don't even remember her having it on her face when we left for school. Was it toothpaste? No, that wouldn't explain why it was all over her hands.

While lost in about 10 seconds of blue smudge thought, I came out of my daze when Haven leaned into me and whispered, "I don't want you to go. I want to stay with you forever."

Right then, right there ... it all became obvious.

This wasn't about Kobe Bryant the basketball player. While I've always respected the hell out of Kobe's greatness as a player, I wouldn't ever say that I was a fan.

This wasn't about Kobe Bryant the person, which is a conversation that includes many complications, especially when trying to balance all of the positive stories that can sometimes make you forget that something happened in Colorado more than a decade ago that is quite complicated and every bit as much of his story as an NBA Finals MVP.

What this was about was a man and his daughter, lost together in almost unspeakable, horrifying fashion. When the news first hit social media on Sunday, the first image in my mind was that of a scene from last month when Bryant had been sitting courtside at a basketball game with Gianna, teaching her a lesson that must have been so unique and special to them.

giphy.gif


Nothing can humanize a person quite like the sight of them engaging with their kids, as it's the most relatable thing we can share with another person. The fear. The devastation. The loss. The aftermath. Somewhere at the exact moment that the world learned of Bryant's death was a wife and three daughters that were in the midst of a change in their lives that won't ever be made right.

Before this horrifying moment could even sink in, a report emerged from ABC that all of Kobe's children had been on the helicopter with him, which was almost too much to take, as the little voice in my head screamed, "God, no!"

It was all so confusing and I didn't know anyone involved. Imagine what it must have been like for the family members of those involved in the crash, forced to learn about your world changing through social media or frantic text messages or some means none of us can comprehend.

Moments later, it was confirmed that 13-year old Gianna had perished with him and time just seemed to stop.

All I wanted in that moment was to hug my kids and never let go, but they weren't at home. Eventually, when they did return home from a trip to Barnes and Noble, I clutched on to them with an urgency that I don't ever remember. There's something that happens to you as a human being the moment that you have a child and that change seemingly lasts the rest of your life. All you want is to provide safety for your children at all times and nothing seems more haunting that the idea of not being able to pull it off.

That thought is the thing that I still can't shake this morning. A helicopter full of parents and children crashed into a mountain, and I'm haunted as a human being by the fear that must have existed in those waning moments, along with the helplessness. You dream about your kids playing sports, going to college, getting married and eventually having children of their own.

This moment in time is a reminder that none of those dreams can be taken for granted.

Ever.

As I walked my kids to their classroom ahead of the 7:45 a.m. bell, I hugged my kids again before they walked into their classroom. Just as they were about to disappear into a Monday or learning to read and write, Hendrix stopped in the doorway of his class room and turned around. Out of nowhere, he ran to me and jumped into my arms, telling me that he loved me and would miss me while he was in school.

It was everything I needed. It was everything I wanted. It'll stay with me all day.

While I count my blessings, my heart aches for those that won't have those hugs this morning or this afternoon or ever again. None of this will ever make sense. None of it will ever go away. None of it can ever be overturned.

The lasting memory of one of the greatest basketball players that ever lived is of him as a father, unable to control life at the end after seemingly spending the majority of his 41 years on this earth doing exactly that with a dedication that those who knew him best often mentioned was incomparable.

We're all mortal, even those that sometimes seem to be made of something quite the opposite. With that knowledge reaffirmed over the weekend, here's to vowing to make the most of the moments we all have left - whether it's a day, a month, years or decades.

Once gone, it's gone forever and can never be replaced.



So, go hug your kids. Call your parents. Tell a long lost friend that you love them and miss them. Seize the moment today.

Now!

Don't wait for a day or time that isn't guaranteed.

Rest in peace, Kobe, Rest in peace, Gianna, Rest in peace, John. Rest in peace, Keri. Rest in peace, Alyssa. Rest in peace, Christina. Rest in peace, Sara. Rest in peace, Payton. Rest in peace, Ara.
Geoff that is by far the best and most revealing post that you have written since I have been a member here and I mean this as a compliment... You should let that side of yourself come out more.. Orangebloods would be better for it.. Thanks for the post..!!
 
Great thoughts Ketch. Was never a Kobe fan, but heartbreaking to see this tragedy happen to a family. As a father, it hits home.
 
ee0e3a40b744e2eebc3b4d949eaa9055x.jpg

It wasn't until Monday morning that I think I fully understood it all.

Sitting in an elementary school cafeteria on Monday morning, watching my twin five-year olds eat Coco Puffs and Cinnamon Toast Crunch, I couldn't quite shake the profound sadness that had drenched my soul in the aftermath of learning that a helicopter carrying Kobe Bryant, his second-oldest daughter Gianna and seven others had crashed into a mountain the day before, killing everyone on board.

I just stared at my children and tried to soak in the innocence that exists in the hearts of kindergartners. Looking at Haven, I realized that her fingers were blue and a smudge of blue was on her cheek. Where the hell did it come from, I wondered to myself. It hadn't been there this morning when I woke her up. I don't even remember her having it on her face when we left for school. Was it toothpaste? No, that wouldn't explain why it was all over her hands.

While lost in about 10 seconds of blue smudge thought, I came out of my daze when Haven leaned into me and whispered, "I don't want you to go. I want to stay with you forever."

Right then, right there ... it all became obvious.

This wasn't about Kobe Bryant the basketball player. While I've always respected the hell out of Kobe's greatness as a player, I wouldn't ever say that I was a fan.

This wasn't about Kobe Bryant the person, which is a conversation that includes many complications, especially when trying to balance all of the positive stories that can sometimes make you forget that something happened in Colorado more than a decade ago that is quite complicated and every bit as much of his story as an NBA Finals MVP.

What this was about was a man and his daughter, lost together in almost unspeakable, horrifying fashion. When the news first hit social media on Sunday, the first image in my mind was that of a scene from last month when Bryant had been sitting courtside at a basketball game with Gianna, teaching her a lesson that must have been so unique and special to them.

giphy.gif


Nothing can humanize a person quite like the sight of them engaging with their kids, as it's the most relatable thing we can share with another person. The fear. The devastation. The loss. The aftermath. Somewhere at the exact moment that the world learned of Bryant's death was a wife and three daughters that were in the midst of a change in their lives that won't ever be made right.

Before this horrifying moment could even sink in, a report emerged from ABC that all of Kobe's children had been on the helicopter with him, which was almost too much to take, as the little voice in my head screamed, "God, no!"

It was all so confusing and I didn't know anyone involved. Imagine what it must have been like for the family members of those involved in the crash, forced to learn about your world changing through social media or frantic text messages or some means none of us can comprehend.

Moments later, it was confirmed that 13-year old Gianna had perished with him and time just seemed to stop.

All I wanted in that moment was to hug my kids and never let go, but they weren't at home. Eventually, when they did return home from a trip to Barnes and Noble, I clutched on to them with an urgency that I don't ever remember. There's something that happens to you as a human being the moment that you have a child and that change seemingly lasts the rest of your life. All you want is to provide safety for your children at all times and nothing seems more haunting that the idea of not being able to pull it off.

That thought is the thing that I still can't shake this morning. A helicopter full of parents and children crashed into a mountain, and I'm haunted as a human being by the fear that must have existed in those waning moments, along with the helplessness. You dream about your kids playing sports, going to college, getting married and eventually having children of their own.

This moment in time is a reminder that none of those dreams can be taken for granted.

Ever.

As I walked my kids to their classroom ahead of the 7:45 a.m. bell, I hugged my kids again before they walked into their classroom. Just as they were about to disappear into a Monday or learning to read and write, Hendrix stopped in the doorway of his class room and turned around. Out of nowhere, he ran to me and jumped into my arms, telling me that he loved me and would miss me while he was in school.

It was everything I needed. It was everything I wanted. It'll stay with me all day.

While I count my blessings, my heart aches for those that won't have those hugs this morning or this afternoon or ever again. None of this will ever make sense. None of it will ever go away. None of it can ever be overturned.

The lasting memory of one of the greatest basketball players that ever lived is of him as a father, unable to control life at the end after seemingly spending the majority of his 41 years on this earth doing exactly that with a dedication that those who knew him best often mentioned was incomparable.

We're all mortal, even those that sometimes seem to be made of something quite the opposite. With that knowledge reaffirmed over the weekend, here's to vowing to make the most of the moments we all have left - whether it's a day, a month, years or decades.

Once gone, it's gone forever and can never be replaced.



So, go hug your kids. Call your parents. Tell a long lost friend that you love them and miss them. Seize the moment today.

Now!

Don't wait for a day or time that isn't guaranteed.

Rest in peace, Kobe, Rest in peace, Gianna, Rest in peace, John. Rest in peace, Keri. Rest in peace, Alyssa. Rest in peace, Christina. Rest in peace, Sara. Rest in peace, Payton. Rest in peace, Ara.

Wow, Thank you for that. As I usually do, I distance myself from these "Celebrity Tragedies" as a coping mechanism, I guess. Like you, I never was really a fan but of course respected his ability as an athlete. I too couldn't shake the thought of him being with his daughter. Because, then I think of me and my daughter given those circumstances. Damn. Stay grateful and try to appreciate every sandwich.
 
ee0e3a40b744e2eebc3b4d949eaa9055x.jpg

It wasn't until Monday morning that I think I fully understood it all.

Sitting in an elementary school cafeteria on Monday morning, watching my twin five-year olds eat Coco Puffs and Cinnamon Toast Crunch, I couldn't quite shake the profound sadness that had drenched my soul in the aftermath of learning that a helicopter carrying Kobe Bryant, his second-oldest daughter Gianna and seven others had crashed into a mountain the day before, killing everyone on board.

I just stared at my children and tried to soak in the innocence that exists in the hearts of kindergartners. Looking at Haven, I realized that her fingers were blue and a smudge of blue was on her cheek. Where the hell did it come from, I wondered to myself. It hadn't been there this morning when I woke her up. I don't even remember her having it on her face when we left for school. Was it toothpaste? No, that wouldn't explain why it was all over her hands.

While lost in about 10 seconds of blue smudge thought, I came out of my daze when Haven leaned into me and whispered, "I don't want you to go. I want to stay with you forever."

Right then, right there ... it all became obvious.

This wasn't about Kobe Bryant the basketball player. While I've always respected the hell out of Kobe's greatness as a player, I wouldn't ever say that I was a fan.

This wasn't about Kobe Bryant the person, which is a conversation that includes many complications, especially when trying to balance all of the positive stories that can sometimes make you forget that something happened in Colorado more than a decade ago that is quite complicated and every bit as much of his story as an NBA Finals MVP.

What this was about was a man and his daughter, lost together in almost unspeakable, horrifying fashion. When the news first hit social media on Sunday, the first image in my mind was that of a scene from last month when Bryant had been sitting courtside at a basketball game with Gianna, teaching her a lesson that must have been so unique and special to them.

giphy.gif


Nothing can humanize a person quite like the sight of them engaging with their kids, as it's the most relatable thing we can share with another person. The fear. The devastation. The loss. The aftermath. Somewhere at the exact moment that the world learned of Bryant's death was a wife and three daughters that were in the midst of a change in their lives that won't ever be made right.

Before this horrifying moment could even sink in, a report emerged from ABC that all of Kobe's children had been on the helicopter with him, which was almost too much to take, as the little voice in my head screamed, "God, no!"

It was all so confusing and I didn't know anyone involved. Imagine what it must have been like for the family members of those involved in the crash, forced to learn about your world changing through social media or frantic text messages or some means none of us can comprehend.

Moments later, it was confirmed that 13-year old Gianna had perished with him and time just seemed to stop.

All I wanted in that moment was to hug my kids and never let go, but they weren't at home. Eventually, when they did return home from a trip to Barnes and Noble, I clutched on to them with an urgency that I don't ever remember. There's something that happens to you as a human being the moment that you have a child and that change seemingly lasts the rest of your life. All you want is to provide safety for your children at all times and nothing seems more haunting that the idea of not being able to pull it off.

That thought is the thing that I still can't shake this morning. A helicopter full of parents and children crashed into a mountain, and I'm haunted as a human being by the fear that must have existed in those waning moments, along with the helplessness. You dream about your kids playing sports, going to college, getting married and eventually having children of their own.

This moment in time is a reminder that none of those dreams can be taken for granted.

Ever.

As I walked my kids to their classroom ahead of the 7:45 a.m. bell, I hugged my kids again before they walked into their classroom. Just as they were about to disappear into a Monday or learning to read and write, Hendrix stopped in the doorway of his class room and turned around. Out of nowhere, he ran to me and jumped into my arms, telling me that he loved me and would miss me while he was in school.

It was everything I needed. It was everything I wanted. It'll stay with me all day.

While I count my blessings, my heart aches for those that won't have those hugs this morning or this afternoon or ever again. None of this will ever make sense. None of it will ever go away. None of it can ever be overturned.

The lasting memory of one of the greatest basketball players that ever lived is of him as a father, unable to control life at the end after seemingly spending the majority of his 41 years on this earth doing exactly that with a dedication that those who knew him best often mentioned was incomparable.

We're all mortal, even those that sometimes seem to be made of something quite the opposite. With that knowledge reaffirmed over the weekend, here's to vowing to make the most of the moments we all have left - whether it's a day, a month, years or decades.

Once gone, it's gone forever and can never be replaced.



So, go hug your kids. Call your parents. Tell a long lost friend that you love them and miss them. Seize the moment today.

Now!

Don't wait for a day or time that isn't guaranteed.

Rest in peace, Kobe, Rest in peace, Gianna, Rest in peace, John. Rest in peace, Keri. Rest in peace, Alyssa. Rest in peace, Christina. Rest in peace, Sara. Rest in peace, Payton. Rest in peace, Ara.

So very true.... well said.....my son told me last night that Kobe and his daughter had died and it was a very sad moment....
 
Brought tears to my eyes Ketch!!! Amazing job!!!! Thank you
 
ee0e3a40b744e2eebc3b4d949eaa9055x.jpg

It wasn't until Monday morning that I think I fully understood it all.

Sitting in an elementary school cafeteria on Monday morning, watching my twin five-year olds eat Coco Puffs and Cinnamon Toast Crunch, I couldn't quite shake the profound sadness that had drenched my soul in the aftermath of learning that a helicopter carrying Kobe Bryant, his second-oldest daughter Gianna and seven others had crashed into a mountain the day before, killing everyone on board.

I just stared at my children and tried to soak in the innocence that exists in the hearts of kindergartners. Looking at Haven, I realized that her fingers were blue and a smudge of blue was on her cheek. Where the hell did it come from, I wondered to myself. It hadn't been there this morning when I woke her up. I don't even remember her having it on her face when we left for school. Was it toothpaste? No, that wouldn't explain why it was all over her hands.

While lost in about 10 seconds of blue smudge thought, I came out of my daze when Haven leaned into me and whispered, "I don't want you to go. I want to stay with you forever."

Right then, right there ... it all became obvious.

This wasn't about Kobe Bryant the basketball player. While I've always respected the hell out of Kobe's greatness as a player, I wouldn't ever say that I was a fan.

This wasn't about Kobe Bryant the person, which is a conversation that includes many complications, especially when trying to balance all of the positive stories that can sometimes make you forget that something happened in Colorado more than a decade ago that is quite complicated and every bit as much of his story as an NBA Finals MVP.

What this was about was a man and his daughter, lost together in almost unspeakable, horrifying fashion. When the news first hit social media on Sunday, the first image in my mind was that of a scene from last month when Bryant had been sitting courtside at a basketball game with Gianna, teaching her a lesson that must have been so unique and special to them.

giphy.gif


Nothing can humanize a person quite like the sight of them engaging with their kids, as it's the most relatable thing we can share with another person. The fear. The devastation. The loss. The aftermath. Somewhere at the exact moment that the world learned of Bryant's death was a wife and three daughters that were in the midst of a change in their lives that won't ever be made right.

Before this horrifying moment could even sink in, a report emerged from ABC that all of Kobe's children had been on the helicopter with him, which was almost too much to take, as the little voice in my head screamed, "God, no!"

It was all so confusing and I didn't know anyone involved. Imagine what it must have been like for the family members of those involved in the crash, forced to learn about your world changing through social media or frantic text messages or some means none of us can comprehend.

Moments later, it was confirmed that 13-year old Gianna had perished with him and time just seemed to stop.

All I wanted in that moment was to hug my kids and never let go, but they weren't at home. Eventually, when they did return home from a trip to Barnes and Noble, I clutched on to them with an urgency that I don't ever remember. There's something that happens to you as a human being the moment that you have a child and that change seemingly lasts the rest of your life. All you want is to provide safety for your children at all times and nothing seems more haunting that the idea of not being able to pull it off.

That thought is the thing that I still can't shake this morning. A helicopter full of parents and children crashed into a mountain, and I'm haunted as a human being by the fear that must have existed in those waning moments, along with the helplessness. You dream about your kids playing sports, going to college, getting married and eventually having children of their own.

This moment in time is a reminder that none of those dreams can be taken for granted.

Ever.

As I walked my kids to their classroom ahead of the 7:45 a.m. bell, I hugged my kids again before they walked into their classroom. Just as they were about to disappear into a Monday or learning to read and write, Hendrix stopped in the doorway of his class room and turned around. Out of nowhere, he ran to me and jumped into my arms, telling me that he loved me and would miss me while he was in school.

It was everything I needed. It was everything I wanted. It'll stay with me all day.

While I count my blessings, my heart aches for those that won't have those hugs this morning or this afternoon or ever again. None of this will ever make sense. None of it will ever go away. None of it can ever be overturned.

The lasting memory of one of the greatest basketball players that ever lived is of him as a father, unable to control life at the end after seemingly spending the majority of his 41 years on this earth doing exactly that with a dedication that those who knew him best often mentioned was incomparable.

We're all mortal, even those that sometimes seem to be made of something quite the opposite. With that knowledge reaffirmed over the weekend, here's to vowing to make the most of the moments we all have left - whether it's a day, a month, years or decades.

Once gone, it's gone forever and can never be replaced.



So, go hug your kids. Call your parents. Tell a long lost friend that you love them and miss them. Seize the moment today.

Now!

Don't wait for a day or time that isn't guaranteed.

Rest in peace, Kobe, Rest in peace, Gianna, Rest in peace, John. Rest in peace, Keri. Rest in peace, Alyssa. Rest in peace, Christina. Rest in peace, Sara. Rest in peace, Payton. Rest in peace, Ara.
Very well done, Geoff.
 
Just wanted to thank everyone for the kind words. I haven't known how to respond to many of the comments, but I do appreciate that it connected with many of you.
 
Hits me hard when I think about it. My daughter is just about to turn 13. She thinks that she is older and should have more freedom, etc. However as a parent I know she has not even had a real chance to live yet. To know that this father, forget all the "complications", had to sit there with his daughter, knowing she was going to die, is beyond thought. I was find myself in a daze, every time I think about it.

Then to know others on that helicopter had to share that same feeling, wow. I know Kobe, and his daughter, are the ones most prominently mentioned. I do get why that rubs some the wrong way. However it is because Kobe was the person that so many knew. It is not meant to diminish those that were there and shared that same fate, it is just that it is easier for people to relate to someone that has been in the media for a long time.

Prayers to all involved and the ones that lost friends and loved ones.

PS... Oh and onions, Ketch, damn onions.
Love your write up. I have three daughters and all married and two granddaughters. Tell that 13 year old you love her everyday. We had difficulty with two of the three girls. The relationship with me helped pull them through. I told them every day I love them. And though they live in different parts of the US, they k ow that they are loved as tell me so. There something very special about being a dad of daughters. I’m crush by the news of Kobe. I talked my ex about our daughters. She too was moved by the news. We take advantage of every moment. They grow up fast.
 
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It wasn't until Monday morning that I think I fully understood it all.

Sitting in an elementary school cafeteria on Monday morning, watching my twin five-year olds eat Coco Puffs and Cinnamon Toast Crunch, I couldn't quite shake the profound sadness that had drenched my soul in the aftermath of learning that a helicopter carrying Kobe Bryant, his second-oldest daughter Gianna and seven others had crashed into a mountain the day before, killing everyone on board.

I just stared at my children and tried to soak in the innocence that exists in the hearts of kindergartners. Looking at Haven, I realized that her fingers were blue and a smudge of blue was on her cheek. Where the hell did it come from, I wondered to myself. It hadn't been there this morning when I woke her up. I don't even remember her having it on her face when we left for school. Was it toothpaste? No, that wouldn't explain why it was all over her hands.

While lost in about 10 seconds of blue smudge thought, I came out of my daze when Haven leaned into me and whispered, "I don't want you to go. I want to stay with you forever."

Right then, right there ... it all became obvious.

This wasn't about Kobe Bryant the basketball player. While I've always respected the hell out of Kobe's greatness as a player, I wouldn't ever say that I was a fan.

This wasn't about Kobe Bryant the person, which is a conversation that includes many complications, especially when trying to balance all of the positive stories that can sometimes make you forget that something happened in Colorado more than a decade ago that is quite complicated and every bit as much of his story as an NBA Finals MVP.

What this was about was a man and his daughter, lost together in almost unspeakable, horrifying fashion. When the news first hit social media on Sunday, the first image in my mind was that of a scene from last month when Bryant had been sitting courtside at a basketball game with Gianna, teaching her a lesson that must have been so unique and special to them.

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Nothing can humanize a person quite like the sight of them engaging with their kids, as it's the most relatable thing we can share with another person. The fear. The devastation. The loss. The aftermath. Somewhere at the exact moment that the world learned of Bryant's death was a wife and three daughters that were in the midst of a change in their lives that won't ever be made right.

Before this horrifying moment could even sink in, a report emerged from ABC that all of Kobe's children had been on the helicopter with him, which was almost too much to take, as the little voice in my head screamed, "God, no!"

It was all so confusing and I didn't know anyone involved. Imagine what it must have been like for the family members of those involved in the crash, forced to learn about your world changing through social media or frantic text messages or some means none of us can comprehend.

Moments later, it was confirmed that 13-year old Gianna had perished with him and time just seemed to stop.

All I wanted in that moment was to hug my kids and never let go, but they weren't at home. Eventually, when they did return home from a trip to Barnes and Noble, I clutched on to them with an urgency that I don't ever remember. There's something that happens to you as a human being the moment that you have a child and that change seemingly lasts the rest of your life. All you want is to provide safety for your children at all times and nothing seems more haunting that the idea of not being able to pull it off.

That thought is the thing that I still can't shake this morning. A helicopter full of parents and children crashed into a mountain, and I'm haunted as a human being by the fear that must have existed in those waning moments, along with the helplessness. You dream about your kids playing sports, going to college, getting married and eventually having children of their own.

This moment in time is a reminder that none of those dreams can be taken for granted.

Ever.

As I walked my kids to their classroom ahead of the 7:45 a.m. bell, I hugged my kids again before they walked into their classroom. Just as they were about to disappear into a Monday or learning to read and write, Hendrix stopped in the doorway of his class room and turned around. Out of nowhere, he ran to me and jumped into my arms, telling me that he loved me and would miss me while he was in school.

It was everything I needed. It was everything I wanted. It'll stay with me all day.

While I count my blessings, my heart aches for those that won't have those hugs this morning or this afternoon or ever again. None of this will ever make sense. None of it will ever go away. None of it can ever be overturned.

The lasting memory of one of the greatest basketball players that ever lived is of him as a father, unable to control life at the end after seemingly spending the majority of his 41 years on this earth doing exactly that with a dedication that those who knew him best often mentioned was incomparable.

We're all mortal, even those that sometimes seem to be made of something quite the opposite. With that knowledge reaffirmed over the weekend, here's to vowing to make the most of the moments we all have left - whether it's a day, a month, years or decades.

Once gone, it's gone forever and can never be replaced.



So, go hug your kids. Call your parents. Tell a long lost friend that you love them and miss them. Seize the moment today.

Now!

Don't wait for a day or time that isn't guaranteed.

Rest in peace, Kobe, Rest in peace, Gianna, Rest in peace, John. Rest in peace, Keri. Rest in peace, Alyssa. Rest in peace, Christina. Rest in peace, Sara. Rest in peace, Payton. Rest in peace, Ara.
Of all the articles I’ve read about Kobe, this one was the best.
 
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