Quentin Fields was a basketball player. He was
also a son. A brother. Somebody’s teammate. And somebody’s friend. I
never knew Quentin Fields and I guess now I never will. Did you ever
wonder what it would be like if you weren’t you anymore? If you were
suddenly gone how would your world react? Whatever you imagined was
wrong. There’s nothing romantic about death. Grief is like the ocean:
it’s deep and dark and bigger than all of us. And pain is like a thief
in the night. Quiet. Persistent. Unfair. Diminished by time and faith
and love. I didn’t know Quentin Fields but I’m jealous of him because I
see how his absence has affected the people who did know him. So I know
mattered to them. And I know he was loved. People say Quentin Fields was
a great basketball player. Graceful. Fluid. Inspiring. They say on a
good night it almost seemed as though he could fly.
And now he can.
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