It’s been a year since Kobe Bryant, his daughter Gianna and seven others died in a helicopter crash in Southern California.
They were on their way to a basketball tournament on a Sunday morning. Bryant, Gigi — that’s what most called his daughter — and everyone else aboard the helicopter were killed instantly in the crash, officials said.
The Associated Press has moved thousands of photos of Bryant, who won five championships in his 20 NBA seasons, all with the Los Angeles Lakers. He was a Grammy winner. He was a best-selling author of children’s books. He will soon be officially enshrined as a member of the Naismith Memorial Basketball Hall of Fame.
The long and hard dozen months since the Jan. 26, 2020, death of Kobe and daughter Gianna and seven others in a helicopter crash has revealed a very startling yet unsurprising thing about the fallen star.
He’s still here. He still lives among us. He’s in our daily struggles. He’s in our personal triumphs. He’s in our last-second defensive stops or buzzer-beating shots or wherever we require that Mamba Mentality. Even amid a pandemic in which nobody is supposed to be anywhere, Kobe is everywhere.
His last name is printed on jerseys that have become the city’s unofficial uniform. His first name is in chants that suddenly break out among socially distanced friends. His face is on city murals that have become drive-by tourist attractions. Is it any wonder he would show up in the middle of our sleep?
For many, his spirit floats through this town like our cool evening breeze, coming alive as darkness approaches to inspire, comfort and connect.
For others, that spirit is a nasty Santa Ana wind, enraging with memories of the rape charges, the youthful selfishness, the childish petulance.
But for all his failings, by the time of his death at age 41, Kobe Bryant had evolved into a loving husband, devoted father, powerful mentor, community leader and grateful superstar.
That is how he left us. That is what lives in us.
He came to Los Angeles as a kid, departed it as a man, and for those 24 years, we witnessed every painful and precocious bit of his growth. Right before our eyes. Directly into our living rooms. With equal parts shock and awe. We gasped at the mistakes and swooned at the dramatics and reveled in the journey.
It is the remarkable finished product of that terribly unfinished life that remains with us still.
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