You kissed your Husband and your daughter goodbye. They were going to a youth basketball tournament on a helicopter. Kobe had taken a helicopter a million times before. This was going to be no different.
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Sure it was a bit foggy outside, but the helicopter had permission to be there. It was going to be fine.
They’d be back in time for dinner and to watch the Grammys as a family.
Suddenly, there’s a phone-call, telling you that there’s been a crash. In a second you say a prayer that Kobe and Gigi haven’t been involved. It must be someone else’s helicopter there, right? I mean, it’s LA. Everyone’s got one nowadays.
The prayer isn’t answered. It’s Kobe. It’s Gigi. They aren’t coming back.
Suddenly, the phone's ringing off the hook. The texts. People are scrambling to be helpful. They are asking the dumbest questions. Some will mention the funeral and what you are planning. They start making helpful recommendations about counsellors, asking what they can do, how they can help.
Barack Obama and Donald Trump have sent their respects on Twitter, you hear. But you don't want the
'thoughts and prayers'. You just want your husband back.In fact, all you really want is them to leave you in effing peace and let you hug your kids, talk to their grandparents, and have a moment to go to the bathroom and scream and sob.
Listen, living with Kobe hadn't been easy. He’d cheated on you back in 2003. He’d given you a $4 million purple diamond ring to aploogise. You’d filed for divorce in 2011. There will irreconcilable differences. But you battled together. He became a better husband. A better father. You called off the divorce in 2013, and since then Kobe was a devoted husband and father. You were so damned happy for him he got that Oscar for calling off basketball. It was bigger for him than winning those basketball trophies. Validated him on an off the field. That was cool.
He still spoke to stars. He'd texted LeBron when he passed him in all-time scoring and sent out a lovely tweet to the masses asking him about his opinion. He'd done in Philly. What LeBron said about your husband was really great. You'll listen to it again, and hope it doesn't feel like the eulogy that others are talking about.
You look on TV and you see the Staples Center. The home to the fun, the mayhem, the celebration of games and victories. You’d seen how Hollywood royalty came to The House That Jerry Built just to watch him. And you’d seen how they stood on their feet to say goodbye. Sure, you’d seen him come home pissed because he’d had a bad day or his Lakers had lost again or there had been a fight with Shaq. You’d talked to him about his body and hugged him when he talked about retirement. At the end of that 2016 season, the fans got to say goodbye to him.
Now, there is a crowd of thousands around the arena saying 'Ciao' for a different reason. Flowers, shirts of No.8 or 24 are out there. People drying their eyes. They felt they owned a part of your husband. I mean, Kings and Queens of countries had less crowds outside their palaces when they left too soon than Kobe has outside of his right now.
Behind you in background noise of the TV, there are 1001 eulogies. Everyone from Kareem to Shaq to some dude off ESPN. They talk about him. The never-endi
ng focus. The Black Mamba. The scoring. The titles.It doesn't matter when he's died, does it?
You get bored, turn it off. You've heard too much.
You know that you're
going to have to make a statement sooner rather than later.You will talk about his legacy. How he loved the city of Los Angeles. How he was awesome beyond the court as a parent and philanthropist. You know, Kobe the person.
The guy who stayed out of his car to make people were OK after a wreck. The person who went to Skid Row to help homeless people. The person who wanted to influence young people to play the game he loved in the gym.
But really, where do you start?
Let’s hope everyone listens to it, and then goes away for a bit. Let you grieve. Let you rage. Let you hug your children so damned close and tell them Daddy and Gigi are in heaven.
You hope that Kobe and Gigi held each other’s hand when the flight was going down, and that they died without pain.
But you don't know. And you don't want to know.
All that you know is that you lost a 41 year-old husband, and a 13 year-old daughter.
And you're wondering how you face tomorrow. Never mind the rest of your life.
