For 20 years, when I thought of Kobe, I thought of: dominance, resolve, toughness, greatness. He was an inspiration. You want to be the best at anything, the best goddamn grocery shopper on some Saturday morning, you can bring that Mamba/Tiger/MJ mentality to your task: a laser focus of living in the moment and dedicating yourself to your craft. The definition of heroes--they slayed the greatest monster of all--the monster inside of all of us that says "you're not good enough", "you can't do it", "you're not strong enough", "you're just not good enough to achieve your dreams." They took that voice, and they killed it. And that's inspiring. For 20 damn years that's been an inspiration. From the early championships, to 81, to the later championships, to 60. It's not the shots, it's not the dunks, it's not the stats that I remember, it's the mindset. I think of Kobe, before this, I would say I thought of Kobe 10 times a day, just at random moments. Tiger too. And MJ. It's just a will to be great. You have to appreciate their entire fukking swag, its all rolled into a model of excellence.
So I can't stop crying today, because I first think of him being gone, and then I still think of greatness and all that he stood for, and those highlights play through my mind, and those same thoughts of "be great" come back, and I still draw on him for inspiration, and it makes me happy and confident, like it always has, until that nanosecond when I remember: "I'm thinking of him now because he died yesterday." And then it hits all over again. It hurts man, it hurts more than some family I've lost, because it was their time to go. It obviously was Kobe's time too, but it was too sudden for me.
They say we choose to come back, to learn something more, to experience something more. It's a ride I'm only just beginning to wrap my mind around. And I'm thankful for knowing what I know, and the path I took to get here. He lived a great life, from beginning to end, the Mamba Mentality. With time, no doubt, he will be an even bigger inspiration in death than he was in life, because he was that amazing, that special, that accomplished. That's what a celebration of life is, but I'm not ready for that perspective yet. I got no advice, no parting words of wisdom, no deep thoughts--just living in the grief.
shyt's hard.