Legends Never Die

I. Yesternight

II. The Day

III. The Week

IV. The Month

Yesternight

Saturday, January 25th, 2020 - 6:45 PM

It was dark out. I’d just gotten home from work. I slipped through the front door, turned on the ambient lights, and changed into some nightwear. I’d had a long day, and was plagued by a bothersome stomachache. Making my way through the dark blue glow I reached into my medicine cabinet, and took a quick swig of Pepto Bismol. Good stuff, I tell you.

I slid into bed and pulled the covers over me. I’ll just take a quick nap until my brother gets here.

My little brother was due to visit my house a little later that night. I always look forward to seeing him. Ever since I moved out to Lakewood I only see him once, maybe twice a month. I know it’s partly my fault—I should make more of an effort to go see him and the rest of my family back out in the valley.

Savoring the silence, I closed my eyes and drifted to sleep.

I woke up to the sound of my phone vibrating. It was my bro. I’m here, the text read.

I looked at the time: 9:19 PM. Fuck… I’d only meant to sleep for a half-hour at the most. I fell out of bed and trudged over to the front door to let him in, trying to act as if I didn’t just wake up.

We spent some time catching up and hanging out like long lost brothers. Since I moved into this house I’ve been building my room into an oasis of sorts - a 5.1 surround system that I'd just bought, with a 55” TV (a gift courtesy of My G) decked out with multicolored WiFi lights and various musical equipment.

We chilled, listening to Depeche Mode, Nine Inch Nails and others. Neither of my roommates were home, so we had it blasting at a dangerously high volume, immersing ourselves in the great art of recorded music.

Before we knew it it was 10:45. My bro was getting hungry, so we headed off to In-n-Out. My stomach was still hurting, but I was still gonna attempt to eat a 3x3 with fries and a shake. Y’know, just to test my limits.

We go through the drive through and there’s practically no line. Hell yeah!

On our way back I make a left on Carson and turn right onto Paramount. As I reach the intersection of Del Amo and Paramount to turn left, we see that there’s been a major accident. A semi-truck on its side. A van and a sedan in front of each other that were nearly destroyed. Debris all over the street.

Wow…

That could have been us, I couldn’t help but think to myself. That accident happened within the last 15 minutes. We drove right through there. I thanked God that we were safe. A poignant moment.

We enjoyed our In-n-Out, as we always do. Absolutely delish.

But I still kept thinking about that crash.

I put Porcupine Tree’s album The Incident on the kitchen speaker system. It’s an incredibly beautiful, complex, conceptual record about a gruesome automobile accident. It seemed fitting. We recited the lyrics along with the vocalist, the great Steven Wilson.

At junction 8, the traffic starts to slow

Artilleries of braking lights and bluish glow

Ascending, in a plumage of twisted steel

Shattered glass and confetti, dashed upon the wheel.

We hung out for a bit more, then I went back to bed around 1 AM. I was tired, despite the nap, and was NOT looking forward to waking up at 8 the next morning for work. I closed my eyes.

Suddenly, my phone rang. It was a text from my roommate.

My dude I need u to come pick me up. I’m fucked up, the text read.

That ain’t right lol, I responded. On my way.

I grabbed my keys and bounced.

While I drove, I put on an advance mix of my forthcoming album Cybernetic Breakdown as I traversed the dark empty streets of the south bay. Soon I arrived in Carson, scooped up My Dude from his cousin’s house and headed home.

I was glad he called. I don’t want anything happening to him. Especially after that accident I saw.

I came home and went to sleep.

The Day

Sunday, January 26th, 2020 - 9:15 AM

The fog was dense and ominous, consuming my block, and, as I’d come to find out, the entire city. Same as it did yesterday morning. I drove solo down the 405, breezing through the Southland as I sang along to a remastered copy of Gentle Giant’s Octopus.

10:03

I arrive at work, say hello to everyone and clock in to start my workday. I hit the sales floor with a bit of pep in my step: a concerted effort to enjoy this day.

11:51

I smile, crack jokes with people, and find myself in quite the whimsical mood. Nearly two hours pass by in a breeze. I was in such a zone that it had only felt like I’d been there a half hour.

12:06

I'm at the 35 (jewelry) case, showing diamonds, engaged in some playful banter with the members. Suddenly, Ana approaches me.

Let me replace you here,” she said. “Go over there and take my phone.”

“Huh?” I had no idea what was going on.

“Take my phone, and go down there," she said, gesturing to the backcap of the aisle, secluded near the bulk wall.

Confused, I did as I was told. “Take my phone,” she insisted again. I took it.

As I walked down the aisle, I looked at her phone. There was an article, with the headline. Kobe Bryant Dead in Helicopter Crash.

No. This isn’t real. What a sick joke.

I pull out my own phone to try and find other sources. TMZ also reported it. I check Twitter. The world was just finding out and entering a state of shock and disbelief.

No. Not Kobe. No. No. No.

My phone begins buzzing with texts from my family and friends. Grief and sadness fill my soul. That’s when it felt like I was in a nightmare.

12:14

Ana comes to comfort me. She walks with me back to our department. Every member had their phone out.

“Oh my god, did you hear Kobe died?” One of them said to another.

Ana turned to me and said “I didn’t want you to find out like that.”

12:22

I was struggling. I couldn’t believe what had happened. I just couldn’t.

Suddenly my boss Suzy approached me.

“Are you okay?” She asked me.

“Yeah,” I croaked out, unconvincingly.

“Do you wanna go home?”

“If I can…”

She dismissed me. I clocked out and left.

Before getting on the 90 freeway, I stopped for gas. Everyone seemed disoriented. Shocked. In a daze. So was I.

My radio was on 710ESPN. Allen Sliwa was on.

As I merged over from the 405 to the 710, the radio news anchor provided an update on the situation. A sad revelation that broke me.

Kobe’s 13 year old daughter is also among the deceased.

The tears burst from my eyes. I couldn’t keep it together anymore.

I parked in the street in front of my house and cried it out. I didn’t go in yet cause I didn’t want my brother to see me like this. I took a solid 15 minutes before leaving the car.

I went in, turned on the news. I watched Brian Shaw completely break down on camera. So did many other people they interviewed in the wake of this devastating tragedy.

I closed my eyes and forced myself to fall asleep. I needed to leave this plane of existence, and hope and pray that when I return, I’ll find out that it was just a scary dream.

6:06 PM

My brother and I went to church together. During communion, I noticed all the people wearing Kobe jerseys. Especially the families. So many lives he’s impacted. So many people are mourning today. I nearly broke down each and every time I saw the number 24, or 8.

6:45

We ate at one of my favorite diners, Heritage. We tried to carry on with some semblance of normality. Perhaps it worked for just a few minutes.

10:21

My brother leaves. I go straight to sleep.

The Week

I’m not very good at dealing with grief. Sometimes I feel like I’m constantly teetering between standard everyday emotion and a complete breakdown; add grief into the equation and I fear I'll go spiraling into the latter.

Everyone has their way of expressing their emotions during a troubled time. Some like to talk a lot. I don’t. Instead, I let the sadness build up inside me until it makes me sick, or, at the very least, renders me completely immobile.

I can’t bear to think that we now live in a world without Kobe Bryant. Each day As I tread these desolate urban landscapes I find constant reminders that he’s no longer here. The billboards, the murals, the purple and gold lights. My drive down the 405 South every night has yet to lack tears.

Gigi. Sweet little Gigi. The sadness multiplies when I think of her. She was already lighting up the competition, and it was so endearing how close she was with her dad. There was a special bond there that becomes obvious when you go back and watch old tape of them; Kobe's MVP, as well as his 4th and 5th championship ceremonies.

I can’t listen to AM710 anymore like I usually do. It’s too painful. I can’t watch ESPN. All these tributes are well-intentioned but they only open the wounds again and again. I don’t need to relive every classic moment. I was there when it happened. I lived it. I was with Kobe every step of the way. We all were.

There is no “celebrity” death that could ever hit me harder. I think I speak for quite a few people when I say that. On his path to greatness, Kobe somehow became bigger than the Lakers, bigger than basketball, and bigger than sports. He transcended every word you could possibly use to describe him. He was the most beloved man in Los Angeles - and it’s not even close.

The Lakers are a family business. And to us - the fans - the players and staff feel like family. My heart breaks so much when I think of the pain that Vanessa, Natalia, Bianca and Capri, Rob, and Jeanie are going through, along with so many others. It’s unfathomable.

I began to question a God who could let this happen. How could a helicopter, carrying the most beloved man in this history of this city, go down the way it did? On the foggiest weekend in recent memory? On a morning where even police choppers decided not to fly?

Dear God, why? This wasn’t the way it was supposed to happen. This is wrong. This is all wrong. I keep wanting to wake up from this nightmare but every time I do awaken, the world is the same as when I left it. Sleep is but a temporary reprieve that gets all the less satisfying the more you abuse it as a means of escapism.

I watch Kobe’s old highlights and the tears well up. I hear his voice as he narrates his short film Dear Basketball and I so wish that he was still here. I think about how Gigi was supposed to completely dominate the NCAA and WNBA. I see the little memorial that the UConn Huskies set up for her and my heart shatters. I see the photos of her smiling next to Luca Doncic and Trae Young, and I’m consumed by grief.

This is like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. I suppose that's both a good thing and a bad thing. I’ve never lost a close family member. All my grandparents are still alive and well, thank God. My parents are well. My little brother is a healthy kid. My cat, Frito, whom I’ve had since 5th grade, is alive and kickin’, thank God.

So when Kobe and Gigi died it hit me hard. Loss and the grief that stems from it are things I’ve never really had to deal with head-on.

Watching Kobe play for 20 years was a special bond so many people shared.

January 31st, 2020

7:40 PM

It was my birthday.

Lakers vs. Blazers. Staples Center. Los Angeles, CA.

It was hard to watch. Any attempt to hold back tears was futile, but I tried anyway. It was such a beautiful, emotional pregame tribute. An unprecedented moment of sadness for the entire sports world. And we all watched it live.

The players were clearly emotional as well. It was a close game, but the Lakers ended up losing, unable to close in the 4th quarter.

At halftime, my dad and my stepmom gave me my gift. I opened the nice card they gave me and smiled.

Underneath it was my gift. When I realized what it was, I began sobbing uncontrollably. I had a complete fucking meltdown. I haven't cried that much in a long, long time.

What was the gift, you ask?

A pair of Nike Kobe IV Protro's: the new remaster of the first pair of Kobe's that I owned long ago.

In the days since Kobe’s death, his shoes have become scarce and the resale value has skyrocketed. My dad told me he got them two weeks prior.

The Month

I had a hard time watching Lakers basketball for quite a while. It didn't feel right. I used to watch every game. Now I'd miss them and not even check the score. I began to wonder if part of my love for the Lakers had died with Kobe.

I took some time away from the NBA. But eventually I came back. I started watching Laker games again, and keeping up with the Pelicans as well.

Slowly, I was able to think about Kobe without breaking down.

Saturday, February 1st, 2020.

My 25th birthday party. My house in Lakewood. My friends and family in attendance. We laugh and drink the night away. It was much-needed.

Little did we know, it would be the last party we’d ever have before the world changed forever.

It’s a nice, cool night under the stars. I look behind me, toward my band, with their guitars in hand, and their amps dialed in. The audience gathers and takes their place in front of us.

I put my guitar strap over my shoulder, and approach the microphone.

“I dedicate this show to Kobe, Gigi, and all the lives we lost on January 26th.”

After a moment of silence, my band begins to play.