Rain and Tears

Rain fell today.  First, as a gentle sprinkling and then more steadily as I listened to Harmon Killebrew's funeral service.  From family to friends to peers; testament after testament was given about what a genuinely beautiful human being he was.  Beyond being an great athlete (in the days before dietary & exercise training programs, or steroids), he was a true and loyal friend, a devoted husband and father and an upstanding member of every community he lived in during his long life.  Story after story touched on a man who never used his celebrity status for his own comfort or benefit.  Harmon always felt compelled to sign every last autograph and stand for every last picture request.  He was humbled by the thought that someone made the trip just to see him and he couldn't bear the thought of disappointing them for having made that effort.  He understood what it meant to be a role model, right to the very end.  His legacy will live on forever thanks to his tireless support of baseball, his family and friends and his charity work.  It was very uplifting to hear and a beautiful way to remember a Minnesota Icon forever.   

Finally, the clouds let loose with a downpour that felt both harsh and cleansing at the same time.  For the rest of the day I couldn't tell the difference between the rain and my tears.  
The coroner's report on Derek Boogaard's death last week was published; an accidental overdose of oxycodone and alcohol.  As the Boogaard family statement advises, "After repeated courageous attempts at rehabilitation and with the full support of the New York Rangers, the NHLPA, and the NHL, Derek had been showing tremendous improvement but was ultimately unable to beat this opponent.  While he played and lived with pain for many years, his passion for the game, his teammates, and his community work was unstoppable." 

I'm full of tears and questions, mostly hot, scorching angry ones right now.  Who mixes Oxy with booze and doesn't know the very real potential side effect is death?  But let's get one thing out there:  Addiction is a bitch.  It's very real.  It gets control of the very center of your soul.  It doesn't care that you're a 6' 7" enforcer on a hockey team trying to make the most of living your dream life.  It doesn't care that you've got your whole life ahead of you or that you only want the very best for everyone around you.  I am not saying that Derek isn't responsible for his actions leading up to his tragic death.  Only Derek made that fateful decision on Friday, March 13, 2011.  For now, I'm just so sorry for the Boogaard family's loss, especially in this day and age of instant public address systems.  I have to believe it's going to make getting through Derek's funeral tomorrow even more difficult.  I'm sure they are struggling with more what-ifs than the rest of us can even imagine.  I'm going to choose to focus on the years of loyalty and dedication Derek gave to the Minnesota Wild and us fans.  I'm going to remember his charity work and his tireless efforts to be known as more than just a brute on blades. 

But in the back of my head there's a buzzing, nagging question that stems from "While he played and lived with pain for many years..."  


And as if there wasn't sadness to go around these days - Clayton Stoner lost his brother Luke on May 6th in a logging accident while working near Port Alice, Brithis Columbia.  Luke Stoner, 30, lived with his wife, Carolann, and son, Kade, in Port McNeill, British Columbia. Carolann is pregnant with the couple's second child.     

NHL Conference Championship hockey games are being played this week.  The Calder Cup will go to game six.  For tonight, I don't have it in me to care about it.  The rain has stopped and I'm content to be comforted by the smell of wet earth and the promise of summer blooms.