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Quentin Fields was a basketball player. He was also a son. A brother. Somebody’s teammate. Somebody’s friend. I never knew Quentin Fields and I guess now I never will. Did you ever wonder what it would be like if you weren’t you anymore? If you were suddenly gone how would your world react? Whatever you imagined was wrong. There’s nothing romantic about death. Grief is like the ocean: it’s deep and dark and bigger than all of us. And pain is like a thief in the night. Quiet. Persistent. Unfair. Diminished by time and faith and love. I didn’t know Quentin Fields but I’m jealous of him because I see how his absence has affected the people that did know him so I know that he did matter to them. And I know he was loved. People say Quentin Fields was a great basketball player. Graceful. Fluid. Inspiring. They say on a good night it almost seemed as though he could fly. And now he can.

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