About two years ago, one of my former players died from cancer. He was 16. He left a sister and a father who were devastated at his loss. He left scores of friends who were also at a loss for words. And he left a coach who found himself asking "why?" At that time, I wrote a piece where I discussed how coaches weren't supposed to bury their players. How young men were supposed to grow up and pass on the wisdom that their coaches had given to them. How they were responsible for carrying the torch to a new generation.
In other words, I tried to say that 16 year olds weren't supposed to die. Not at 16, anyway.
Each day, as I sit at my desk, my eyes scan the wall of team photos. And each day, I stop on the photo of the young man with the wide smile and the too-tight pants and I wonder what might have been for him.
And now it's happened again. Not to a former player, this time, but to the son of a former mentor and a great friend. Only this time, the end wasn't expected as it was with the previous young man. After all, the cancer had ravaged his body and it was only a matter of time.
No, this time, the young man had a minor illness, which incredibly escalated until his spleen burst and he arrested and died. At 17. With no time for goodbyes.
I was there when McKenna was born. I remember seeing him as a child, watching him grow. He moved away when he was about 9, but I remember thinking "there is a great kid." He was an athlete. A good student. A great brother. He reflected his parents.
I spoke with his dad the other day. He sounded lost. And there was one thing he said that has stuck with me for the last 3 days or so; he said he can't come to grips "with the finality of it." He's not away at school, he's dead. He's not coming back. Not for the weekend, or spring break or ever.
We packed our oldest off to school on the same day I received the news. He's back at school, awaiting the start of the semester. He has basketball games to go to, books to buy, finals to sweat out. He has spring break to look forward to.
He has his whole life ahead of him. Just like McKenna did.
He'll sleep well tonight. But I won't. Because now I worry about the "finality" of it, and pray I never have to go through what my friends have gone through.
Hug your kids tonight.
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