Sunday, November 08, 2009
Sports, "Hunt's Grunts"

Grieving with purpose

 

By Hunt Archbold

If you happen to tune into a national sports report every so often, no doubt you’re aware of a pair of recent tragedies within the collegiate sports world.

First, there was the fatal mid-October stabbing of Connecticut student-athlete Jasper Howard, who was killed outside an on-campus dance only hours after playing a substantial role in his football team’s home victory over Louisville. Then early last week came the sobering news that three softball players from Dickinson State University in North Dakota had drowned after apparently accidentally driving into a dark, high grass- and shrubbery-surrounded pond while out stargazing.

The four young athletes, none older than 22, have since been remembered with candlelight vigils, memorials, moments of silence and many tears. But when will the grieving stop? Will it ever? A sudden or violent death can bring forth a complicated form of grief that is difficult to control. But does it need to be?

Maybe you have already, but if not, you will soon enough come to face a form of grief that weighs so heavy it leaves you with a feeling that nothing will ever be OK again. Anybody know what I’m talking about?

The friendship-reacquainting phenomenon that is Facebook has something it calls the Gross National Happiness Index, which analyzes status updates to determine the collective mood of the social network’s 300 million-plus users. But how does such an application determine sarcasm? Does a status update that reads “Loving Willie Martinez’s continued use of the soft-cover zone defense this year” really invoke emotions of happy-happy joy-joy?

Interestingly, according to those behind the Facebook curtain, the saddest days are those when a famous person such as Michael Jackson dies, but the happiest days are those when people aren’t at work, such as holidays. Yet beyond those social status updates, there’s no denying that the approaching holiday season is often filled with its share of grief and sadness, much of it related to the passing of someone close who is not famous.

Thanksgiving and Christmas are nostalgic times. When we have lost someone close, we tend to feel it more this time of year. Yes, there is joy and good cheer, but there are the moments of pain, loss and sorrow, too. I think of Shane Dronett, who was as good a guy as there was on Atlanta’s only Super Bowl team 11 years ago. He had a nice family, a serviceable NFL career, and was successful in real estate. But 13 months after a sudden brain surgery to remove a tumor left him emotionally withdrawn, the 38-year-old Dronett shot and killed himself last January. It’s hard for one’s heart not to go out to his parents, his wife and two teenage daughters as they approach this first holiday season without him.

This time of year, I think of a pair of close friends and teammates who within the last six weeks would’ve both turned 43. Arthur Ernest Griffith IV and Nelson Kinloch McMillen were two of the most original and quick-witted individuals I will ever know, but it’s been some time since I’ve really heard their laughs. Nelson passed away 24 years ago this month in a car accident, while next March will mark the 10-year anniversary of Arthur succumbing to cancer. My heart will forever go out to their families.

I remember in the summer of 1985, picking up this vigorous duo at the Atlanta airport from a trip out west. Barely noticing me and having clearly been served some distilled spirits on the flight, Arthur and Nelson sang Talking Heads lyrics and hollered all the way through the terminal, past baggage claim and into the parking lot, without a hint of concern for the ruckus they created in their wake. Priceless.

In his final game, on his last day on Earth before he was senselessly murdered, UConn’s Howard recorded a career-high 11 tackles while also forcing and recovering a key goal line fumble that helped secure his team’s victory. In an interview after the game, Howard was quoted as saying, “You gotta play every play like it’s the last play you’ll ever play.”

That’s how it’s got to be in life, too. But as Arthur and Nelson sang that day, quoting David Byrne (off-key), “Well, how did I get here?” I often wonder the same thing.

We can’t skip too swiftly past grief; it needs to be processed, and there’s no set time for how long that will take. The shortest verse in the Bible, and one of the most touching, comes from the Gospel of John and simply states, “Jesus wept,” in describing his pain over the death of Lazarus.

I still weep for my friends Arthur and Nelson, and I don’t think that part of the grieving process will ever change. But nor will my determination to celebrate their lives in simple conversation, loving pictures, rich stories and pleasant memories, such as that one at the airport, so that they will always be remembered and never forgotten. I hope that during this holiday season, you, too, can do the same for the Arthurs and Nelsons in your own life.

Happy times … and in my mind, I will always be able to hear your laughs, guys. SP