Kobe and Vanessa Bryant: A Valentine’s Reflection of Love and Loss

I woke up this morning thinking about Kobe Bryant.
And then it hit me—it’s the anniversary of his and GiGi’s passing.
Six years. Wow.

Like so many of you, I remember exactly where I was when I heard the news. I was sitting in my den with my family, watching the coverage unfold, feeling completely devastated and helpless. When the news came that Gigi had also passed, I became inconsolable. I think I actually screamed out loud, “No!”

As a mother who has lost a child in utero, my heart immediately went to Vanessa Bryant. I wanted to wrap my arms around her—and around every mother in this world who has lost a child. I never got to meet my child, and even that loss carries a grief that is hard to put into words. The loss of an adolescent child is beyond anything our human language can fully describe in this 3D reality.

Vanessa Bryant, in my opinion, is one of the most remarkable human beings. Her resilience, her strength, her ability to smile again, her devotion to her children—these are not small things. They are extraordinary. She shows us what it looks like to continue choosing love, even after unimaginable loss. That praise extends to all the mothers I will never meet, who carry grief quietly while still showing up for their families every single day.

As we move into what we call the season of love—Valentine’s Day—I find myself reflecting on both Kobe and Vanessa Bryant. Their lives remind us that love isn’t just about flowers or cards. Love is how we show up when life is painful. Love is how we keep going through the darkest nights of the soul.

Vanessa continues to show up—not only for her children, but for the world. Through the Mamba & Mambacita Sports Foundation, she honors Kobe and GiGi by supporting underserved youth and athletes, especially young girls, helping them access sports, education, and opportunities they might not otherwise have. She has fought tirelessly for justice, protected her family’s dignity, and turned unimaginable grief into purpose, service, and giving.

For any mother, simply getting out of bed after losing a child can feel impossible. Moving forward doesn’t mean forgetting—it means carrying love forward, even when your heart has been shattered. Vanessa does this with grace, courage, and quiet strength.

I once heard Vanessa share a story about a private conversation she had with Kobe. She asked him why he continued to play even though he was injured, even though in pain, even though physically exhausted, even though his coaches warned against it, even though doctors advised him not to play. His answer went something like this (I’m paraphrasing):

“There’s someone out there who bought a ticket today. They saved up for it. This might be the only game they ever get to see. A dad brought his child. Maybe it’s a celebration. If I don’t play, they won’t get to see me. So, I’m going to play—for that one person.”

That is love.

And I am that one person.
Thank you, Kobe.

Reflection:
How are you going to show up for love this season?
For others—and for yourself.
Not just on Valentine’s Day, but every day.