I remember a writing teacher once telling me to never mix life and sports metaphors, so fail me.
I always picture myself playing on a team. I choose carefully my players. This helps me rise up. This helps me if I feel alone.
I wake up everyday with people on my side. They are the good and strong players on my team. There is no one single MVP. Everyone shares that status for their own gift they bring to the game.
Well chosen players bring out your best game as they play theirs. They support your moves, your decisions and the indefinable thing we will just call the you- ness in you. They get you. They understand you and anticipate you. They do not leave you. No matter where they are, there they are. You feel it and it lifts you up. You so admire the way they play, you try to copy their style and adopt their moves.
When things are tough you think of them, look to them. When things are good, they cheer you. They set you up to succeed. They have your back.
I have been grieving the loss of someone on my team. He left yesterday permanently. There is no one on the bench to sub in. He is gone.
I know the passing of him is wrapped up in my sadness about my own dad who is here in body only. And the two of these men, when well, are so similar. Alike in their humour, presence of self, sense of right and wrong, fun, the ability to listen and give world class advice, to the punch in the gut point that I am aware now they both feel gone.
I knew both of them were always on my side. And now no one fills those shoes.
How do we play short one?