Koya
Footballguy
On Feb 1, 2015 - Super Bowl Sunday - we got an urgent message.
TU was in the hospital. It didn't look good. Hurry over to see him, we don't know if he will live through the night.
My wife and I rushed to the hospital in Forrest Hills, just down the block from where TU lived. I had a couple minutes with him alone, gave him my best wishes, told him how much he was loved and how positive and great an impact he had on so many lives. Hugged him with wires and hookups everywhere and said goodbye.
One day later, Feb 2nd, hoping against hope that TU would pull through I was at JFK flying away on business. At first I did not want to travel with TU's precarious situation, but everyone said (and was correct) that there was nothing I could do, was only going for a couple days and life needs to move forward. Walking around the Virgin Atlantic terminal (or the one it's in) at JFK, for my first and only time I got a full massage. It didn't make things better, but was so needed.
Boarded the plane and five minutes before doors closed and phones had to go off (still had to turn them off then) I got the text.
We lost TU. With it, a part of me and all of TU's friends. It was the longest, most solitary flight ever.
Today, I'm trying to celebrate a life that brought so much joy into the world. It's admittedly hard to do, fighting back tears. There has been a hollowness within me since that day, TU was that close and important a friend... he was an even better person. As any and all who knew him would attest.
Moving to Dallas is in a way closure to these past two years. Not long after TU passed I was diagnosed with my illness, from which I recovered only a couple months back. But his legacy and imprint will always remain. The joy of remembrance and yes, the pain of that emptiness. Hopefully in my own personal new lease on life, I can be a bit more like TU and help bring even the slightest bit of light into the world, as he did so magnanimously, effortlessly and selflessly.
Love you TU. Always will.
TU was in the hospital. It didn't look good. Hurry over to see him, we don't know if he will live through the night.
My wife and I rushed to the hospital in Forrest Hills, just down the block from where TU lived. I had a couple minutes with him alone, gave him my best wishes, told him how much he was loved and how positive and great an impact he had on so many lives. Hugged him with wires and hookups everywhere and said goodbye.
One day later, Feb 2nd, hoping against hope that TU would pull through I was at JFK flying away on business. At first I did not want to travel with TU's precarious situation, but everyone said (and was correct) that there was nothing I could do, was only going for a couple days and life needs to move forward. Walking around the Virgin Atlantic terminal (or the one it's in) at JFK, for my first and only time I got a full massage. It didn't make things better, but was so needed.
Boarded the plane and five minutes before doors closed and phones had to go off (still had to turn them off then) I got the text.
We lost TU. With it, a part of me and all of TU's friends. It was the longest, most solitary flight ever.
Today, I'm trying to celebrate a life that brought so much joy into the world. It's admittedly hard to do, fighting back tears. There has been a hollowness within me since that day, TU was that close and important a friend... he was an even better person. As any and all who knew him would attest.
Moving to Dallas is in a way closure to these past two years. Not long after TU passed I was diagnosed with my illness, from which I recovered only a couple months back. But his legacy and imprint will always remain. The joy of remembrance and yes, the pain of that emptiness. Hopefully in my own personal new lease on life, I can be a bit more like TU and help bring even the slightest bit of light into the world, as he did so magnanimously, effortlessly and selflessly.
Love you TU. Always will.
two years flew by, RIP Sean you will be remembered 
