Not Just About the Game

[InciteHysteria 68]

 

The beginning of a career should always a beautiful thing. Optimism falling out of every orifice. The smile when you realize you are getting a chance to do what you love for a living - or used to love. I don't know how to react to this news. Should I be happy? Should I be upset I am here, signing a contract, living out my "dream", or should I be happy for the literal sacrifices others made for me to be here? Who am I to make that decision - maybe you can tell me?

 

I guess I should start from the beginning. Happiness has been hard to come by in my life. I was born in Iqaluit, Nunavut on September 19th, 1999, the third of a set of triplets to a single mother. She worked very hard to make sure we had every opportunity to do what made us happy. When she saw the drive for me and my brother Carter had for the game of hockey - she uprooted her life in Iqaluit and took on two jobs to pay for a small apartment in Ottawa. Life was difficult. Eating boxed dinners every day, using semi-broken second-hand gear, and finding ways to get to and from practice. I am surprised she was able to take on all that and still balance two jobs. My mom is the definition of a superhero. 

 

As young hockey players, Carter and I showed a lot of innate talent for the game, but we were also working our asses off. If our mom was able to do that for us - the least we could do was make her not regret all the work she put in for us. We steadily rose through the ranks and we got closer with other players and their families. While our travel was often taken care of by friends parents, it still was a lot to put on our mother. Then it happened...

 

All I can remember was the sound of Carter's cellphone hitting the ground. We were out celebrating a win with our teammates. Ring ~ Ring  ~ Ring.  "Hello this is Carter." "What?" CRASH. 

 

William, our brother, and our Mother had been killed by a drunk driver heading home after watching our game. Our whole world changed immediately. We despised hockey for, and maybe secretly do, for being the catalyst for the loss of the two people closest to us in the world. We both spiraled. Carter lost himself in training, I didn't choose something so healthy. Drugs are not a proper replacement for feelings - especially as a 16 year old. My spiraling continued for two years before I was confronted by my ex-coach and my ex-teammates. "Owen, come back to us. We need you." This wasn't because of my talent, and this wasn't because they needed my shooting ability. And little did I know that I needed them too. 

 

 Just 4 years removed from losing half of family, with the help of some of the most amazing people I have ever met, I am ready growing with my new family. The Lynx name scrawled across my chest represents that family - but those eight letters on my back are what made me. 

 

I love you Mom. I love you William. It's time to kick some ass for you both. 

 

 

(Completely a dramatization. Don't drive drunk. Be safe and tell those in your life that they are important to you and that you love them.)

Edited November 18, 2019 by InciteHysteria