For My #girldad

In the wake of the tragic deaths of Kobe Bryant, his daughter Gianna, and seven others this past week, many people have been sharing what Kobe meant to them. I would not necessarily consider myself a big basketball fan, but how could I not be a Kobe fan? His reach extended far beyond the court. I knew I wanted to write something to express how I feel and how I have been processing these losses, and I have been agonizing over what that might be for days. Nothing I, or most other people could write could do justice to Kobe’s legacy or the impact his daughter was already beginning to make on the sports world. Although I've put a lot of time and effort into drafting multiple other write-ups, everything I thought of just did not seem good enough.

After thinking long and hard about what my tribute might be I came across the hashtag #girldad on Instagram, which is in reference to what Kobe once said to a reporter about loving being a “girl dad”. This of course, while incredibly heartwarming, makes the circumstance of their passing even more devastating, if that is even possible. The hashtag, so far, has been fathers posting pictures with their daughters that truly encompass how much, like Kobe, they appreciate being able to raise girls. Everyone from pro-athletes to bloggers to regular people has been posting their #girldad photos in honour of what Kobe loved doing most. Although I am clearly not a girl dad, I am a daughter of a girl dad.

My dad has three daughters, myself being the middle one. He is insanely committed to us, which I am very grateful to say, as I know that not everyone can say the same. He is endlessly supportive, and I cannot count the number of times that he has bailed us (especially me) out of difficult situations when he could have easily let us flounder on our own. He’s not really the emotional type as shown by the facts that we joke that we each get one hug per year and that his “I love you” is almost always a version of “I’m proud of you”, but we know what he means.

I think my sisters would agree that I am “the boy” of the family, in the traditional sense. I have always been the one who has watch hockey and football with our dad, gone to the comic books store with him, and I am probably the most serious athlete currently. I think it’s also fair to say that I am the most like my dad. From our stubbornness, to our work ethic, to our commitment to helping people, it’s no surprise that I often get that I am a mini version of him. He loves to tell a story depicting my five-year-old self, who had just seen him speak at a wedding, getting on the mic to add in my little spiel.

Like the Bryants, a large part of our relationship is centred around sports. My dad always played sports growing up, as did my siblings and I. However, I was always the one that took them the most seriously, and my dad encouraged that. I’ve never been a natural athlete and have always had to work hard at any sport I attempt. Anytime I wanted to try something new, or further my training my dad was the first to help me out. When I wanted to play volleyball, he bought me new kneepads that were less bulky, so I’d be able to move faster. When I was helping to start a flag football team at my high school, he spent hours practicing routes with me in the front yard (only for me to end up playing defence). When I wanted to be a better skater, he woke up at ungodly hours to drive me all over Ontario to work with different coaches. The list goes on. I cannot even fathom the time and money my dad has investing into everything I’ve ever wanted to do, for no other reason besides him thinking it would make me happy. I’ll never forget when I asked him why he quit his touch football league, which he had loved being a part of since before I was born, and he said that he had missed my first goal of the ringette season one year for a football game, and that he just didn’t want to miss anymore. The idea that he sacrificed one of his passions to watch me ride the pine for large parts of most games and score only four more goals that entire season warms my heart, and honestly, makes me laugh. Who knows – maybe if I had known what he was missing to be at my games I would have taken a couple more shots the few times I actually saw the ice that year! In short, my dad’s unwavering support and consistent belief in me made it very easy to want to be great, for myself and for him.

The nature of Kobe’s and Gianna’s passing and the girl dad movement have made me reflect on everything my dad has done for me and my sisters, and although we disagree over little things, and push each other’s buttons, it makes me absolutely sick to think about where I might be today without him in my life. In times like these, as many have already said, we need to lean on our loved ones more than ever and appreciate every single moment we have had and ever will have with them.

Kobe was and will always been an institution, and the world will always resent the fact that he, and everyone involved in that accident, was taken too soon. While we need to use this injustice to fuel us to live life to the fullest, we also need to live in every moment with the people we love – one of many lessons Kobe taught us.

Hold your loved ones close, show up, and tell them you’re “proud of them”. They’ll know what you mean.