Dear Los Angeles, A Letter to a Grieving City
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By Jeremy Treat
Los Angeles is hurting, again. The helicopter that went down with Kobe Bryant and his daughter Giana, along with seven other beloved people, struck a nerve in Los Angeles, sending reverberations of pain throughout the city. While a celebrity death is no more of a loss than any death, this tragedy has uniquely shaken L.A. Why? From my perspective, as a pastor in Los Angeles, the answers reveal much about the City of Angels and the people who call it home.
A tragedy as wide-reaching as the death of Kobe Bryant seems to have tapped into the personal pain we all carry, opening up space for everyone to lament together. We’re all suffering in one form or another, dealing with loss, trauma, or disappointment. What’s happening in L.A. right now is that a common loss has created a sense of a communal release, a cathartic experience of the city groaning with agony. As we mourn with those who mourn, we learn that somehow pain is more bearable when it’s shared.
Kobe’s death is also striking a nerve because it exposes many of the facades of day-to-day life and forces us to confront reality. One person’s initial response to the news of the crash is revealing: “He can’t die. He’s Kobe.” She said it, but that’s how we all felt. It’s sad to say, but, for me, Kobe’s death humanized him. He’s not a “celebrity” or even a “legend,” he was a father, a husband, a person—just like you and me. A loss like this pulls back the curtain on L.A. culture that attempts to ignore the fragility of life, avoid the inevitability of death, and live as if what really matters is image and fame. Death isn’t the exception, it’s the norm. It comes sooner for some, but the shock that we feel ought to make us ponder what really matters most in life.
Perhaps the greatest reason Kobe’s death is affecting Los Angeles so deeply is because of the way Kobe represents L.A. I don’t mean in the superficial sense of gracing billboards and being associated with the city at large. The depth of pain is a result not of Kobe’s celebrity but of his story. Like many Angelenos, Kobe came to L.A. at a young age with much potential. The success and the city got to him in many ways, however, and by the age of twenty-five, his dream had become a nightmare. Kobe wasn’t on SportsCenter for basketball highlights but for his trial over rape allegations. But as Kobe moved into his early forties, he was focused on being a good dad to his daughters, giving back to the community, and maturing as a man. I think Angelenos are grieving so deeply because they identify with eighteen to twenty-five-year-old Kobe but they want to be like forty-one-year-old Kobe.
Amidst the pain and confusion of this loss, many people in Los Angeles are asking, “What can I do with all this sorrow and sadness?” Right now, we need to grieve. Rather than ignoring, minimizing, or numbing the pain, we should lament the pain, acknowledging the loss for what it is. It’s okay to cry. Grief is the appropriate response to loss.