On life and death...

“For the sword outwears its sheath, and the soul wears out the breast. And the heart must pause to breathe, and love itself have rest.”—Lord Byron

It would be too much to bear if this were about a fifth death of a hockey player this summer, but it is not merely that. It is the fifth, and the sixth, and every interceding number between that and forty-first, with the crash of the Yak-42 carrying the players and coaching staff of the Yaroslavl Lokomotiv team. Among the names on the list of passengers who perished were several former NHLers, including former Bruin and Whaler Brad McCrimmon, longtime Blues superstar Pavol Demitra, and longtime Hurricanes forward Josef Vasicek.

On the hockey side of things, the only player I followed closely was Vasicek, who played for parts of seven seasons with the Hurricanes and had his name etched on the Stanley Cup in 2006 despite playing in few of the games that season. He was one of my favorite players when I was younger because he always seemed to work harder than the rest, and had a knack for scoring big goals. I was saddened when he left for Nashville, thrilled when he returned in a trade, and then disappointed again when he left for the Islanders. He was not a superstar by any means, but he was certainly the kind of player that a fan could support.

This is, however, not really about hockey. In the sense that we have now seen a lot of hockey careers this summer end too soon, perhaps it could be. However, this is different from the retirement of Doug Weight, and even from the sad forced retirement of Marc Savard due to concussions. If we only lost the Boogeyman or the Czech Condor as hockey players, it would be acceptable. People move on in life. This is not the same. We fans have lost them as hockey players, but there are parents who have lost sons, aunts and uncles whole have lost nephews, wives who have lost husbands, children who have lost fathers.

That is the true nature of this tragedy. Those were more than hockey players--

they were human beings, with families and friends, hopes and dreams. Those families and friends have been torn apart; those hopes and dreams ended abruptly. It is a reminder of just how fragile and valuable life can be, in case the four prior deaths of Tom Cavanaugh, Derek Boogaard, Rick Rypien, and Wade Belak were not enough and the tenth anniversary of the terrorist attacks of September 11th, 2001 would not suffice either.

There are different lessons to be taken from each tragedy. From the four deaths of Cavanaugh, Boogaard, Rypien, and Belak we ought to come to grips with the fact that mental illness is real, and the impact it has on those who suffer from it can be more punishing than any punch thrown by an enforcer. We need to stop stigmatizing mental illnesses like schizophrenia and addiction, and start offering help with battling them and a warm hand to hold during the worst times. From the deaths in Russia, we ought to learn that no price is too high when it comes to ensuring safety, not just on the ice but off of it--whether that means better pads for players to wear or demanding more thorough safety inspections of team airplanes.

From all of these tragedies, and from every other one of any kind, though, there is one overriding lesson: tomorrow is not guaranteed. Take the time today to tell those around you how much they matter to you, and then set aside time every day to do that, because the day will inevitably one day come when that becomes impossible, as it did for these people far too soon.

Seth