Dear Kobe

1.26.2020

Dear Kobe, 

I was supposed to die before you. You weren’t supposed to die. You were untouchable. Ethereal. A myth, living among us. This doesn’t feel real.

From the moment I saw you on the screen, I knew you were great. You were like the legends my mom always talked about-- the Jordan of our time, the magic that compared to Magic. And you were. You are still. Just, invincible. I just want to wake up from this nightmare. 

I never knew you personally, and while you never knew me either-- I hope you know how much of inspiration you were to be becoming who I am today. I was a kid when I first realized who you were, and while I never got to go to the Staples Center to see you play live, that doesn't change how much of a fan I’ve been of you. You gave a 10 year old me the dream that I could be great too if I wanted to be. And throughout my life, you’ve given me the confidence and knowledge to know that all the tools I needed to be the best version of myself, are already within me. Through your words, your experiences, and your triumphs-- you redefined greatness.

You were more than just an Athlete. You were an inspiration. You are an inspiration. I talk a lot about how much people like David Goggins and Beyonce have inspired me, and I’d be lying if I didn’t say that you were a huge part of that too. Your work ethic, your dedication, and your obsession with finding success in failure are traits that not only inspire me, but also drive me to being the best me I can be. Seriously. I used to take notes on your interviews to see how I could optimize my life the way you did yours. The reality of failure almost killed me, but it always drove you. I used to be so obsessed and so broken down by my losses, but listening to you speak on yours was my motivation to keep on going-- and to finally accept failure as another chance to be better. 

Enough about me, today is about you, and your daughter, and about everyone who was on board that helicopter today. I wish today never happened. What will the world be like now that we never get to hear your Hall of Fame Speech, see you change the NBA to let women play, that we never get to see your daughter rise up and be the next you? What about your second act? This was too much, too soon.

The world is quieter without you. 

I don’t know how to end this letter, mostly because I don’t want to. I was going to write about what it felt like walking around LA Live the day of your last game, or what it felt like listening to your interviews while I threw myself into my passions after my first breakup, or when I listened to a podcast with you last week, and how your words changed the way I’ve been training for this marathon. But those are stories that aren’t really stories. They’re just more ways to describe the same way you’ve inspired me.

So, since I’m not doing that, I’ll say this instead & tell you my favorite quote from you. I wish we got to meet in a random way and I could’ve just said it to you-- I always pictured bumping into you at a yogurt shop in the OC, but I’ll tell it to you now instead. My personal version of speaking into the void and hoping the void can hear me:

Thank you. For existing. For being the best, and for being the best version of yourself and showing the rest of us that we could do that too. You saw the world in a way that most of us couldn’t, and in a way that I wish most of us could. Thank you for being one of my biggest inspirations. You were and you are, the Greatest Of All Time.

I’ll always be that kid

Sitting in front of the TV watching the game

Watching you on the court, :05 seconds on the clock

Ball in your hands

5...4...3...2...1

Thank you, Always, 

Ambika

"The most important thing is to try and inspire people so that they can be great at whatever they want to do." 

-Kobe Bryant

*to see the original poem and short that Kobe wrote/directed for “Dear Basketball”, please click this link