‘Dear Kobe’ - An open letter

Editors note: This open letter was written by Mt. Pleasant High School Language Arts teacher Jennifer Kohorst on November 30, 2015, ahead of his 2016 retirement from the National Basketball Association. She is the widow of the late Keith Kohorst, a former Mt. Pleasant News sports editor who passed away in 2007.

Kohorst shared this letter on her Facebook page earlier this week after the tragic death of Kobe Bryant, his daughter Gianna Bryant and seven others, who were killed in a helicopter crash on Sunday on their way to a youth basketball game.

Dear Kobe -

Here is what I know:

The game will go on.

Kids will find a new hero.

Basketball will find another phenom to hang its accolades upon.

But I also know this:

You are more than a game.

And let me tell you why.

From the time my sons were born your name has been in their ears. Their dad, a farm boy from Iowa, was a true to the bitter end Laker fan. License plates, jerseys, pictures, Sports Illustrated covers, everything Purple and Gold. He was Magic, Shaq, and, he was Kobe. The title runs began in 2000 - my husband was convinced the birth of our oldest son in August of 1999 was the difference maker. Silly Iowa farm boys.

And when he died, my sons were 7 and 5 (and one in utero), we watched every game - we had the NBA ticket, of course. How else is an Iowa boy going to watch every game? It was a way for us to bond. To grieve. To love. To share. To be whole.

The inevitable happened. You got older. The luster on the MVP trophies lost its shine. Injuries. Planning family trips to watch you play: Minnesota, Chicago, Oklahoma City. But, no Kobe. It didn't matter. We went. We cheered. We felt like a whole family again - even if for just awhile.

My oldest son had (has) to have your shoes. Your jerseys. Your number. Not because he wanted to be you - because of what you stand for to us. It is more than basketball. You represent a time when our family was whole. You are the symbol of his dad.

His friends give him grief for loving the Lakers - bad as they are. Bad as they have been. But how could he explain just what you mean? That you are his tie to a man he barely remembers, to a man that gave him so much - that you represent all of that and so much more.

And maybe all boys chase a ball in order to appease some father they never felt that they knew. Maybe every ball sailing through the air is the heart of a young boy aiming to please his father, eager to slay the giant. Maybe every boy sits alone on a bench with the heart's desire to belong if even for a few honeyed hours to something bigger than themselves. To gain approval. To beat the buzzer as time runs out. To become immortal.

So, if the game forgets, if the boys move on, if trophy cases are filled for someone else - I will not forget how you held my family together in our most difficult days.

I will not forget how you have kept us together as my boys have grown. If we have nothing left to say, when conversation gets hard (your girls are little - but you'll understand in a few years), we can always talk about Kobe.

Hall of Fame. Legend.

But, what comes next excites me, too. Because what comes next is the real lesson. Life goes on, hard as it is. When your everything is gone, there is still a future. There is always something more - that is what tomorrow promises, regardless of what today tells us.