Kobe Bryant, the aftermath of his death, and the power of forgiveness.
Photo taken from @tysonbeckdesign on Twitter. There's significant tragedies in our lives that we'll always remember where we were. When Michael Jackson died, I was at my grandmother's house. I was little at the time, so I wasn't fully aware of what was going on until I saw his funeral on television, and remembered the days my mom would listen to him on her stereo. When Prince died, I was in Mexico with my family for spring break. I was a senior in high school at the time, and I remember feeling a sense of shock as we tried our best to enjoy the break. When Carrie Fisher died, I was in New York..again with family, and felt sadness for her mother who was later to die of what people said....a broken heart. When it was announced that Kobe Bryant had died, I was on the couch. It was Sunday afternoon, and I had finally decided to do some homework after a lazy day of lounging. One of my friends had posted on his Snapchat story "no, this can't be true."