The Power of Collective Memory- and what it means to be a #GirlDad

The World Is Reeling.

We are all trying to come to terms with the loss of a cultural icon, in our own way.

There's the heartfelt social media posts, the evocative television specials, the public statements from our cherished celebrities that help us to realize we aren't alone in our grief.

But what does it mean to grieve someone you never really knew?

One of the many memes circulating this week captured the sentiment perfectly-

Kobe Bryant epitomized strength, hard work and determination to so many. As an athlete, he inspired a generation to strive for greatness. As a man, he demonstrated how to overcome personal challenges, how to lead by example, and how to grow into your role as a husband and father with grace.

He meant so much to so many.

For myself, and for the many Laker fans that watched his career take fold, its the memories that hold the most value.

I always say, I was born a Laker fan. Literally.

At my mother's first signs of labor, my parents put their birth plan into action. They grabbed their "go bags" and headed for the door when my father realized he didn't have a fresh tape for the camcorder.

These were the days before cell phones, and if you wanted to capture a moment you had to bring your own hand held video camera. So in his haste, he grabbed the first tape he could find.

Sitting on top of our old Tube TV was a recording of the latest Larry Bird/ Magic Johnson match up.

So yes, you guessed it. My birth video starts out with the cheers of the crowd, the voice of the legendary play caller Chick Hearn, and the pure "Magic" of the era.

Then, the screen splits, the volume cracks, and you hear my first wails as I enter this world.

This story has always been a source of personal pride, as I realized the path was set so early on for me to become a "Daddy's Girl".

My first introduction to Kobe came from my father, as you might expect.

I can see the moment in my mind's eye perfectly. I can hear his voice as he called to us to gather around that old Tube TV.

It was Draft Day. The year was 1996, but by the looks of it you would think it was the Moon Landing or the tearing down of The Berlin Wall. My younger brother and I had been summoned to the living room to witness another great moment "in the history of the universe" (one of my my dad's famous sayings).

"This is Kobe Bean Bryant", he told us with a spark of excitement in his voice and a glean to his eye, "He is going the be the greatest basketball player to ever play the game."

My brother, who never really had the patience for live sports, slinked away to play outside while I sat with my dad, soaking in his enthusiasm while he spoke about the shrewdness of Jerry West, the legacy of the Lakers, and the hope for the future of the franchise.

I was nine years old.

Cut to the year 2002.

The Lakers Dynasty is in full swing. Kobe Bryant is the man to beat. There are many a late night, as my dad and I struggle to stay up to watch our beloved purple and gold from our new home on the east coast. It is playoff time, and we never miss a game- a chance to bond over our love for the sport and admiration of the athletes. I listen as my dad tells me all the stories of old; how Joe "Jellybean" Bryant of the then San Diego Clippers dunked on Kareem, and Kareem came back to win the game with his legendary sky hook; how Magic and Larry would battle it out on the court only to become the greatest of friends, how "Chickisms" became "Shaquisms" and so on and so forth.

I know I am not alone in my memories.

One thing that has been incredible to witness this week, as the world comes to grip with the sudden and tragic loss of Kobe, his beautiful daughter Gigi and all those lost in this terrible event, is the power of collective memory.

Just as my dad and I bonded over those late night playoff games, the world bonds over our collective memory.

I think the power of Kobe's legacy was best demonstrated on Monday morning in schools across the globe as students filed into their classrooms. My mother, an elementary school Media Specialist told me that many of her kids were emotional- some of them barely old enough to have seen a single Kobe play, let alone a Dynasty era game. This really struck me. How could these young kids be so affected by this event?

The answer is simple. Someone had to teach them. Someone from a previous generation had to share their memories with them. At one point, someone made a reference they didn't understand, laughed at a joke they didn't get, which spurned a conversation about what makes a person "great" at what they do. They used Kobe as the ultimate example, the #GOAT if you will, solidifying his place in our collective memory.

These days, there aren't many events that stop this world in its tracks. Constant media bombardment leaves us apathetic to things that may not effect our everyday life. News circulates so quickly that by the time you digest the first course, there's another to take it place. In many ways, we are more "connected" than ever, yet we let our differences define us far to often.

That is what makes this loss especially poignant. I saw the same sentiment expressed across social media, from celebrities to my closest friends- this loss affected them not just as fans, but as parents.

Then somewhere along the line of bereavement, there was a significant shift.

It happened organically, as the best tributes usually do.

Following a report by #ESPN's Elle Duncan, in which she so eloquently described a conversation with Kobe about his experience as a father to four girls, it became clear how much he adored his daughters and doted on their every accomplishment.

He loved being a "Girl Dad".

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2GuASKiAqDc

Then one by one, as if there had been a silent pact among fathers of daughters, came the photos of smiling faces and father/daughter embraces and videos of sporting events or performances with proud commentary and all the things that make being a #GirlDad so special.

I could not think of a better way to honor Kobe Bryant's memory.

Not just because he was my favorite player.

But because I'm the proud daughter of a "Girl Dad" too.