For Charlie

 

This picture should hang in a hockey rink

Too many times.

Too many times we've had to write posts like this.

Too many times we've had to come up with different ways to say we've lost someone far too young.

Teddy Balkind a few months ago, for instance. Lost to a play on a hockey rink that we'd rather never remember for a kid we'll never forget.

Today, it's Charlie Capalbo. More than a hashtag -- #CapalboStrong -- he fought against cancer too many times. More times than should ever be allowed.

Then again, once should never happen, especially not to someone so young.

Charlie died yesterday a month shy of his 24th birthday. A world of people are mourning today.

Charlie, his father, and his brother appeared on "Doubleheader" back in Dec 2019. They showed grit, courage, class, and joy. The conversation was phenomenal. I felt like I was an extended family member by the time it was over.

What charisma. What laughter.

Today? What pain.

Only 23.

Far too young.

It stings.

At the same time, what a gift he gave. Charlie tied a whole sport together. People talked about Charlie in Fairfield. In Greenwich. In Fairfield County. In Connecticut. In New York.

And beyond.

He fought. As he sat on "Doubleheader" in 2019, it felt like he'd won that fight.

Yet, here we are.

I don't see Charlie as having lost. How could anyone think otherwise? Oh, we use that platitude often -- they "lost the battle to cancer" -- but, in truth, a person like Charlie Capalbo doesn't lose a fight with cancer.

He knocked it around. Checked it into the boards.  He beat it.

It's just, well, sometimes a puck gets deflected. Charlie wasn't out of position. He was squared up perfectly. The puck just found the back of the net.

A person like Charlie just felt too big for the world. If you met him, you know what I'm saying. This isn't some false kindness. 

I am reminded of "Free Bird," the song I quoted in my father's eulogy, as I thought of Charlie Capalbo.

"For I must be traveling on now. There's too many places I've got to see."

Charlie has other hockey games to play.

Other places to see.

Yet as grateful as everyone feels for having met him -- even briefly, like me -- there's sadness for what's lost. A whole lot of people feel it.

His family. Fairfield hockey. The town of Fairfield. Medical professionals. Media types. Friends. Acquaintances. 

More.

All #CapalboStrong.

Today, all are Capalbo sad.

We say it often: it isn't fair.

It's not. 

No answers tonight.

Too many times.