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Brock's Father Duke Passes Away

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Well crap... I feel really bad for the family.

One thing I realized when I had the opportunity to hang out with some NHLers is that you forget how young they really are.  This guy is just a kid and in any just world should have his Dad around to call or hug for the next 20 years or more.

He is going to have to bear the weight of taking care of his family while also being an elite athlete playing in one of the toughest sports on the planet.  I hope he comes back next season and has the support network of his friends on the team to help ease the burdens.  As well as ragging on his and having fun to make the rink an escape from the stresses of the rest of his life.

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My heart breaks for all of what Brock’s had to face already. No one should have to lose a parent so young in life. I’m always going to root for him whether he plays for us or not and long after his hockey career finishes. It takes a lot of love and support to raise someone as incredible as Brock has turned into. He deserves so much better then the extraordinarily difficult challenges he’s been given. 

Duke helped make our world a better place. Now that he is free from pain I hope he is able to RIP.

Edited by StanleyCupOneDay
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I hope and I'm sure it will happen, when the next game Brock is scheduled to play in that there will be a memorial of some sort in the pre-game with a lot of tears but hopefully a smile on Brock's face too that so many hearts are with him. THAT I'm sure will bring a smile to Duke looking down at Brock so proud of his son! Yes Duke, there's so much to be proud of him for, rest in peace!  

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11 hours ago, EoH said:

RIP to duke and condolences to the Boeser family.


I remember reading this quote by someone on Reddit ages ago that I saved and whenever someone passes I’m just reminded of it.


“Alright, here goes. I'm old. What that means is that I've survived (so far) and a lot of people I've known and loved did not. I've lost friends, best friends, acquaintances, co-workers, grandparents, mom, relatives, teachers, mentors, students, neighbors, and a host of other folks. I have no children, and I can't imagine the pain it must be to lose a child. But here's my two cents.

I wish I could say you get used to people dying. I never did. I don't want to. It tears a hole through me whenever somebody I love dies, no matter the circumstances. But I don't want it to "not matter". I don't want it to be something that just passes. My scars are a testament to the love and the relationship that I had for and with that person. And if the scar is deep, so was the love. So be it. Scars are a testament to life. Scars are a testament that I can love deeply and live deeply and be cut, or even gouged, and that I can heal and continue to live and continue to love. And the scar tissue is stronger than the original flesh ever was. Scars are a testament to life. Scars are only ugly to people who can't see.

As for grief, you'll find it comes in waves. When the ship is first wrecked, you're drowning, with wreckage all around you. Everything floating around you reminds you of the beauty and the magnificence of the ship that was, and is no more. And all you can do is float. You find some piece of the wreckage and you hang on for a while. Maybe it's some physical thing. Maybe it's a happy memory or a photograph. Maybe it's a person who is also floating. For a while, all you can do is float. Stay alive.

In the beginning, the waves are 100 feet tall and crash over you without mercy. They come 10 seconds apart and don't even give you time to catch your breath. All you can do is hang on and float. After a while, maybe weeks, maybe months, you'll find the waves are still 100 feet tall, but they come further apart. When they come, they still crash all over you and wipe you out. But in between, you can breathe, you can function. You never know what's going to trigger the grief. It might be a song, a picture, a street intersection, the smell of a cup of coffee. It can be just about anything...and the wave comes crashing. But in between waves, there is life.

Somewhere down the line, and it's different for everybody, you find that the waves are only 80 feet tall. Or 50 feet tall. And while they still come, they come further apart. You can see them coming. An anniversary, a birthday, or Christmas, or landing at O'Hare. You can see it coming, for the most part, and prepare yourself. And when it washes over you, you know that somehow you will, again, come out the other side. Soaking wet, sputtering, still hanging on to some tiny piece of the wreckage, but you'll come out.

Take it from an old guy. The waves never stop coming, and somehow you don't really want them to. But you learn that you'll survive them. And other waves will come. And you'll survive them too. If you're lucky, you'll have lots of scars from lots of loves. And lots of shipwrecks.”

What a beautiful piece and a fitting tribute. Love it and will keep it for another time. Thank you.  

Edited by spook007
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