Square Peg ● Round Hole







My heart is heavy. When I heard about the helicopter crash that claimed the lives of nine people including Kobe Bryant and his daughter, Gigi, I was stunned. I am not an NBA fan. I didn’t really follow him, but I was drawn by the loss. He was a dad. He was a husband. He was a friend. He was human. And in the blink of an eye, those people are gone and their families are forever changed. How do you move on from that?

In the midst of the intense sadness that blanketed our country, there were trolls. People that were put off by others publicly sharing their grief. They took a community that was banding together to lift each other up, and tainted it. That is the world we live in, friends. The easily offended. The judgmental shrews. We can’t even grieve without a running commentary about why grieving for a stranger is wrong. My view is that if your grief expands to others, it demonstrates your capacity to love. Friends, grief is simply love that is left unused.

Grief isn’t saved for those we love. Our heart is big enough feel the loss of others too. We are empathetic to the plight of those families and their changed landscape. It is palpable. When I woke up yesterday, I had a friend on my heart. I realized that while I can’t do anything for those affected by this tragedy, I can be a support for those in my life. So, I showed up. I took her family dinner and we spent time connecting. I am not sharing this because I want a pat on the back. I am sharing this to illustrate that I was able to alleviate some of the heaviness by loving my friend while she walks through a difficult time. That’s it. A simply act of kindness eased my sadness.

As my husband left for work yesterday, he said, “I hope I get to see you tomorrow”. I responded, “I do too”. There are no guarantees for a tomorrow for anyone. And that, my friends, is a sobering thought.