By Dr. Ann Kearney-Cooke

I was shocked and sad when I heard the news that Kobe Bryant had died in a helicopter crash. How could someone like Kobe, larger than life, die so young in a crash on the way to coach his daughter’s team? How could these dedicated parents perish with their daughters who they were meant to cheer for that very day?

Kobe seemed immortal and his death destroyed the illusion that life is predictable and safe. It stirs up feelings of other losses in our lives and reminds us of our own mortality.

I have never been emotional about the death of a celebrity. I admire individuals who are really good at what they do. Sports figures, musicians, and other public figures bring joy and excitement to our everyday life. But that day, I felt emotional about Kobe’s abrupt ending to his life.

All of Sunday, I read articles about Kobe’s life, watched TV and social media where others shared their sadness and shock. I listened to stories from people who Kobe had touched and talked with family and friends about it. I was struck how people, regardless of their race, age, socioeconomic status or political affiliation, connected together to grieve Kobe. It reminded me of how, at our heart, our country is a compassionate one where people from all walks of life are sad when someone important to us dies, even if we never met them.

I am not an NBA fan, but I periodically watched Kobe on the sports channel with amazement in the way he played basketball. So passionate, so talented and determined to win the game. Growing up, my father coached the CYO’s (Catholic Youth Organization) eighth-grade basketball team. Since I was the fifth of six children, I spent a lot of Sundays watching my three brothers play on his team. I came to appreciate the game of basketball, and to this day, March Madness is my favorite time of year.

Growing up I lived about a half-hour from Lower Merion where Kobe played basketball in high school. I remember my father talking about this amazing basketball player Kobe Bryant. He said he was special, he stood out from the rest. He was talented, competitive and had that fire in the belly that he was going to win. He told me to follow him into the pros because he was going to make it big.

He did make it big. He was drafted into the pros right out of high school. He went from a young star to one of the best players in the history of the NBA. People loved to watch him play. His love of the game, tenacity, and passion created excitement for many. As a psychologist, I often tell my clients that we are all a mixture of strengths and weaknesses. Perfection does not exist.

Kobe was a complicated man. From what I read, he wasn’t the most popular player in the NBA among his peers in his early years. He had an estranged relationship with his parents and was accused of sexual assault. At the same time, he modeled hard work, perseverance, and purposeful living. He was a philanthropist, an amazing father and a huge advocate for women’s sports. He was a brilliant man who wrote poems, screenplays, books, and podcasts. He poured himself into everything he did with intensity whether he was playing basketball with the Los Angeles Lakers or sitting next to his daughter on the sidelines teaching her about the game of basketball.

Seeing Kobe with his children humanized him. I love the pictures of him kissing his youngest daughter and brainstorming with Gigi watching a basketball game. I read that when a reporter said he needed to have a son to continue Kobe’s athletic genes, Gigi who was standing right next to him said confidently, “She was more than up to the task.”

It reminded me of the power of a father supporting his daughter. Growing up in an athletic family, I did not get the athletic gene. In middle school, I was a book worm. I wanted to play a sport and my father taught me how to play softball. That spring, every night after dinner he dedicated time to teach me the essentials of the game. He knew I wanted to make the team. I made the softball team and played first base. Thanks to the incredible arm of the third baseman on my team, I was part of a triple play that year. The coach went crazy and my father who was watching the game close to first base picked me up and twirled me around. It was one of the happiest moments of my life.

This tragedy reminds us that everyone, no matter who you are will die. But for me, the real question is, who is going to live?

Kobe lived with passion and took chances and pushed himself towards excellence. Are you going to really live? Put yourself out there, make a difference, be vulnerable and love others and live in the moment. He inspired us to do that. On Monday, we celebrated Kobe Bryant’s life. We will pause together, show respect and pray for all the people who lost their lives on Sunday, Jan. 26.

We lost a great one. He died way too young. He will be honored for the amazing man he was – off and on the court.

Ann Kearney Cooke is a psychologist and lives in Montgomery.

Originally featured in The Enquirer – Cincinnati