it doesnt get easier, just further away
One year. one year ago today a man, barely 23 years of age, left this world. and he didn't leave it unchanged. His name was Trevor Ettinger and I loved him. I think I may have been in love with him but I know that I loved him. and I miss him.
it is so hard to write these words. Scarcely a day goes by when I don't think of him or talk of him. Sometimes I can forget that he's gone and just imagine that he's home for the summer, preparing for another hockey season. then reality rushes back and I'm forced to confront the emptiness. for he did leave a hole somewhere in me. Its like a wound, scabbed over, often scratched, it left a scar that still burns and will always be there.
I'd say I knew him somewhat better than most fans, but I would never claim to know him. When I say that I knew him, well he knew my name, had graced me with his presence at the radio show... once I gave him a ride after practice, his first day back in Dayton during his final season there. I sent him a birthday card one year. he let me rub sunscreen into his back at a parade 2 summers ago, and when I saw him for what was almost the last time, he greeted me with a hug. like a friend.
For those of you who don't know, Trevor Robert Ettinger was a hockey player. He started his junior hockey years with Cape Breton of the QMJHL, spent 3.5 years there (cdnhockeyfan can probably tell you about that if you want to know) was traded to Moncton (also in the Q) played there for parts of 2 seasons and ended with Shawinigan. after his 5 yrs of junior hockey, he was picked up by the Dayton Bombers of the ECHL, and that's when I met him. it was the 2001-2002 hockey season, a season magical in so many ways. it was the year my dwindling hockeylove rose from the ashes of apathy toward the NHL and came to full blossom in the heart of minor league hockey, the ECHL and its Dayton Bombers. I'd been familiar with the Bombers for years, been to some games here and there but that year I worked at the arena, which gave me full access to all games. it was bliss. as is the atmosphere in the lower levels of hockey, the team becomes part of the community, like family almost. there was a whole new dimension and suddenly I found myself starting to get to know some players. it started off slowly, after each game, a pair of players would come out and sign autographs. this was cool and I didnt feel like such a weirdo if there were others doing the same (remember I was new to this)
the fellas were all kind and somewhat friendly but there was one who stood out. literally, he was very tall- about 6'5 and quite large besides. and on the ice he was a menace. he was our resident "Enforcer" the guy who protects the smaller skilled players and keeps the goons away. rarely a game went by when he didnt fight. and he was very good at what he did. Obviously the size helped, but there was something more, he was fearless and tough. and he seemed to be having the time of his life. I'd seen some good fighters before, having been a hockey fan for 8 yrs at this point. but never a guy who would pound the daylights out of somebody and then proudly grin afterwards and becon to his teammates as if to say "hey guys! this is fun!!" there was nothing malicious about his laughter, it wasnt derogatorty toward the other team, it was simple joy at being able to play a game for a living. now it wasnt always fun and games with Trevor, trust me, you didnt want to be on the business end of his glare or his fists if you just tried taking a cheap shot at one of our guys. but this jovial manner extended to his off-ice self as well, as I was soon to find out.
I guess it happened slowly though its all a blur to me. one sunday in early january 2002, 5 of the Bombers were downtown to skate with fans at Dayton's new outdoor rink. of course I went, any excuse to ice skate (and it was free!) and by this point I had a growing interest in these strange gentlemen from the north and this odd air of family they seemed to share with the fans. *and my best friend had left the country days before on a 6month trip so I was a bit lonely as well*
right so I went and he was there. Trevor was a very friendly guy, for all that he looked scary and intimidating. he was playing with little kids but somehow I managed to snatch him away and asked if I could skate with him (a very brave thing I did, especially considering my current issues with talking to hot boys) and of course he accepted my invitation. then he surprised me by holding out one of his huge hands to me. well, it was clear that I didnt need help skating, but who was I to say no to such an offer? *grin* *blush* it was very cute and sweet. we made a few turns around the rink, he was strutting, btw cuz he had me on one side and my friend Diane on the other LOL. then he took his hand back, but I think he took a piece of me as well. and that was that.
further stories of him and all my adventures where Trevor was concerned (and there were many) can be found here. here, and here.
and that brings me back to today. sometimes it still doesnt feel real but it did happen. On Saturday, July 26, 2003, Trevor Ettinger died of a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head. he left no note. perhaps we'll never know WHY he did it but the fact remains that he did. I didnt learn about it until the next day, probably why I'm writing this now, in the almost between two days, where the 26th melts into the 27, the space when today becomes yesterday and tomorrow becomes today. I guess talking (or writing) makes it easier for me to bear. it certainly wasnt easy last year on July 27th.
It started out like any other day. I went to bed on saturday night, feeling deeply unsettled but for no reason I could name. I won't presume to think that I knew something was amiss with Trevor, but perhaps subconsiously I knew there was something wrong in the world. I'll never know, but all I know is that saturday night I was in an awful mood, resteless and bothered. I fell asleep thinking of Trevor, but that wasn't new either, as he was often on my mind. Infatuation? perhaps, but i hadnt seen the boy since March, and he had recently re-signed with the Crunch, I was planning to move to Buffalo, so I was eagerly awaiting the start of the hockey season in october, and a chance to see him once more. thinking of him was nothing out of the ordinary. beyond all that, I own one of his game-worn jerseys, and I often wore to sleep in.. yeah call me a freak, i do that with my Naumann jersey too, they're just so big and comfy. but I digress. I also woke on sunday with Trevor on my mind.. idle thoughts about how a player goes about choosing a number and if they're even allowed to chose numbers in junior hockey, things I always meant to ask....
wake up, get dressed- I was going home to spend the day shopping with my mom and sisters and was looking forward to spending time with them. Hadnt heard from my mom yet, so I sat at the computer to see if anyone had left me messages overnight. As the screen popped up, I saw a message from a friend in Syracuse. " You better head over to Dave's message board" it said. Innocent enough, thought I, maybe there's some news of a signing or something of interest along those lines. I scrolled down past my away message to see if she said anything more and my eyes fell on three words. three words that will haunt me forever. it still makes me sick and sad just to think them. the finality of those words is so complete, so uttely shattering that all I could do was gape at the screen in horror. "Trevor is dead"
now, the gal that sent the message wasn't one to joke like that, it was no secret that I had feelings for Trevor and really thats just a sick thing to say to anyone. but my mind didn't want to believe anything so insane so I grasped at anything. quickly I called Morgan into the room, I couldnt even utter the sentence, I had to show her. so we checked out the message board. there was a message from a fella who claimed to live in Trevor's hometown. he said that Trevor had been found dead at his home the day before and thats all that he knew. he assured us that he was not playing some awful trick but again, we did not want to believe something so horrid could be real. no one knew anything about the guy who posted, so we all tried to hope that it was a hoax. a sick, twisted thing but anything would be better than reality. thats what I told myself too. And I headed home trying to decide what to think. so far there had been no confirmation, nothing in any newspapers or official websites. he lived in a tiny town in Nova Scotia though, and while somewhat known for his hockey skills in Dayton and Syracuse, Ettinger was not exactly a household name. so, the rational part of myself said, even if something did happen, there's nothing to say that it would be anywhere official.... YET. but I clung to the belief that since no official word was released, it must not be true. when I got to the house, no one was there. i jumped on the computer, almost against my will, and checked the board again. this time a message from Dave. he had confirmed the awful rumor with folks that would be in a position to know. and it was true. Trevor Ettinger was indeed dead. when I read that, I sat on the floor in my parent's house and bawled for a good 5-10 minutes. still no no one was home. i composed myself and waited.
I didnt tell my family. they had never actually met him, though I talked of him often. I used to joke that I was going to marry him, and my mom would just smile and say "he seems like a good kid". so, while I was bursting and wailing inside, i said nothing to them. everyone was in a really great mood, and I didnt want to damper their spirits. and there was a part of me that thought maybe if I didnt say anything, then it wasnt actually real. illogical, I know, but thats how the mind works. it was silent misery but if anyone noticed, they said nothing. and I said nothing. we passed the day in happy companionship and I went back to my apartment that night, back to the sick reality that I knew would face me. back to the computer screen with those three ugly words. and I read them again, and this time I wept. I wept like I havent before, and probably not since then.
I couldnt help but cry. At this point, it was unknown exactly how he had died, but the word suicide kept floating up. no one wanted to believe that either, Trevor had seemed to happy, so full of life. and yet, we realized as we talked, the miles between us meaning nothing, as fans from many cities shared the grief and memories of a man who touched so many lives, that we didnt know him. not really. we knew the man he wished to show us. he was a great warrior on the ice, always ready to come to the aid of a teammate, always ready to take the hit, end the fight, put himself on the line, time and time again for his mates and his fans. and off the ice, he was so jovial, always ready with a smile, a handshake, a picture. that goofy grin was never far and the laugh always at hand. how had this man come to a place that was so dark he thought he had to leave the world? didnt he know how much he was loved? this we struggled with, our hockey family, brought together in grief, shock and disbelief when we should have been brought together through triumph and the adrenaline rush that is a hockey game. but minor league hockey is always about more than just the game. its about the players as well. as they give of themselves on and off the ice, so we take them in and make them feel welcome in a place often far from their homes. for 6-8 months of a year, the fans become their family and home. and they, in turn, become our surrogate brothers, friends. and now one of them had left us. of his own will. it was too much.
that night was hell. I downed a bottle of wine and talked and cried with Morgan (who knew him) and my other roomie Melissa, who hadn't known him but through the stories I sometimes told. they let me talk and cry and I felt a little better but when I tried to go to bed, all I could think about was Trevor. and his smile, his laugh, the way he used to fight, his friendliness, always ready with a grin, a chuckle, handshake.... and once.. a hug. I could not get it out of my mind, when I went to Syracuse the previous March, to see him play a few games. he hadn't known I was there, but after the game, he came out, was talking with some kids, then he saw me. I cant forget the look in his eyes. they lit up, and immediately a radiant smile broke through his tired features. he strode right up to me, through a crowd of small children and hugged me. no hesitation, the way one might greet a friend or a sister after a long absence. it was a true hug, unasked for, given straight from the heart. a proper, 2-armed embrace for the feeling of the moment. my heart swelled so mught I thought I would have burst on the spot, and it still makes me happy to recall that moment. I can feel the his sweat on my neck, where my skin touched his drenched shirt (he had not yet showered) I remember the feel of him, sticky and sweet, smelling like hockey which is at once revolting and oddly comforting. and when I drew away from him, he was once more smiling.
that is how I wish to remember Trevor. Not as an article in the paper, anazlying just why he did it and how he did it. Not as a statistic. not as a number, though numbers have meaning and I'll always associate 63 with him. no. As a smile, as a laugh, as the carefree man playing a boy's game with a boy's youthful passion and exuberance. As the man who gave me so much of himself that day at the skating rink when he offered me his hand, the little mischevious boy who played with my hair that nihgt in the bar, the hockey-player who appreicated our signs and "fan club" attitude, and the friend, that night at the game, who, after a 4-month separation, called me by name and hugged me tightly. Because, while I may not know known Trevor well, I knew him enough to know that I loved him. and I will always love him.
and I shall ask that, after reading this, those of you that are so inclined, please offer up a prayer, not for me, but for the soul of Trevor, that he may find the peace and happiness that he couldn't on this earth. and for his mother, who found him on that fateful day one year ago, for I cannot even begin to know the pain that she must live with every day. for she must be such a remarkable woman, to have raised such a son.
and thus it ends, the story thats been inside me, waiting for the complete telling for a year now. i feel better now that it's all out. thank you for reading. it truly means a lot ot me.
it is so hard to write these words. Scarcely a day goes by when I don't think of him or talk of him. Sometimes I can forget that he's gone and just imagine that he's home for the summer, preparing for another hockey season. then reality rushes back and I'm forced to confront the emptiness. for he did leave a hole somewhere in me. Its like a wound, scabbed over, often scratched, it left a scar that still burns and will always be there.
I'd say I knew him somewhat better than most fans, but I would never claim to know him. When I say that I knew him, well he knew my name, had graced me with his presence at the radio show... once I gave him a ride after practice, his first day back in Dayton during his final season there. I sent him a birthday card one year. he let me rub sunscreen into his back at a parade 2 summers ago, and when I saw him for what was almost the last time, he greeted me with a hug. like a friend.
For those of you who don't know, Trevor Robert Ettinger was a hockey player. He started his junior hockey years with Cape Breton of the QMJHL, spent 3.5 years there (cdnhockeyfan can probably tell you about that if you want to know) was traded to Moncton (also in the Q) played there for parts of 2 seasons and ended with Shawinigan. after his 5 yrs of junior hockey, he was picked up by the Dayton Bombers of the ECHL, and that's when I met him. it was the 2001-2002 hockey season, a season magical in so many ways. it was the year my dwindling hockeylove rose from the ashes of apathy toward the NHL and came to full blossom in the heart of minor league hockey, the ECHL and its Dayton Bombers. I'd been familiar with the Bombers for years, been to some games here and there but that year I worked at the arena, which gave me full access to all games. it was bliss. as is the atmosphere in the lower levels of hockey, the team becomes part of the community, like family almost. there was a whole new dimension and suddenly I found myself starting to get to know some players. it started off slowly, after each game, a pair of players would come out and sign autographs. this was cool and I didnt feel like such a weirdo if there were others doing the same (remember I was new to this)
the fellas were all kind and somewhat friendly but there was one who stood out. literally, he was very tall- about 6'5 and quite large besides. and on the ice he was a menace. he was our resident "Enforcer" the guy who protects the smaller skilled players and keeps the goons away. rarely a game went by when he didnt fight. and he was very good at what he did. Obviously the size helped, but there was something more, he was fearless and tough. and he seemed to be having the time of his life. I'd seen some good fighters before, having been a hockey fan for 8 yrs at this point. but never a guy who would pound the daylights out of somebody and then proudly grin afterwards and becon to his teammates as if to say "hey guys! this is fun!!" there was nothing malicious about his laughter, it wasnt derogatorty toward the other team, it was simple joy at being able to play a game for a living. now it wasnt always fun and games with Trevor, trust me, you didnt want to be on the business end of his glare or his fists if you just tried taking a cheap shot at one of our guys. but this jovial manner extended to his off-ice self as well, as I was soon to find out.
I guess it happened slowly though its all a blur to me. one sunday in early january 2002, 5 of the Bombers were downtown to skate with fans at Dayton's new outdoor rink. of course I went, any excuse to ice skate (and it was free!) and by this point I had a growing interest in these strange gentlemen from the north and this odd air of family they seemed to share with the fans. *and my best friend had left the country days before on a 6month trip so I was a bit lonely as well*
right so I went and he was there. Trevor was a very friendly guy, for all that he looked scary and intimidating. he was playing with little kids but somehow I managed to snatch him away and asked if I could skate with him (a very brave thing I did, especially considering my current issues with talking to hot boys) and of course he accepted my invitation. then he surprised me by holding out one of his huge hands to me. well, it was clear that I didnt need help skating, but who was I to say no to such an offer? *grin* *blush* it was very cute and sweet. we made a few turns around the rink, he was strutting, btw cuz he had me on one side and my friend Diane on the other LOL. then he took his hand back, but I think he took a piece of me as well. and that was that.
further stories of him and all my adventures where Trevor was concerned (and there were many) can be found here. here, and here.
and that brings me back to today. sometimes it still doesnt feel real but it did happen. On Saturday, July 26, 2003, Trevor Ettinger died of a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head. he left no note. perhaps we'll never know WHY he did it but the fact remains that he did. I didnt learn about it until the next day, probably why I'm writing this now, in the almost between two days, where the 26th melts into the 27, the space when today becomes yesterday and tomorrow becomes today. I guess talking (or writing) makes it easier for me to bear. it certainly wasnt easy last year on July 27th.
It started out like any other day. I went to bed on saturday night, feeling deeply unsettled but for no reason I could name. I won't presume to think that I knew something was amiss with Trevor, but perhaps subconsiously I knew there was something wrong in the world. I'll never know, but all I know is that saturday night I was in an awful mood, resteless and bothered. I fell asleep thinking of Trevor, but that wasn't new either, as he was often on my mind. Infatuation? perhaps, but i hadnt seen the boy since March, and he had recently re-signed with the Crunch, I was planning to move to Buffalo, so I was eagerly awaiting the start of the hockey season in october, and a chance to see him once more. thinking of him was nothing out of the ordinary. beyond all that, I own one of his game-worn jerseys, and I often wore to sleep in.. yeah call me a freak, i do that with my Naumann jersey too, they're just so big and comfy. but I digress. I also woke on sunday with Trevor on my mind.. idle thoughts about how a player goes about choosing a number and if they're even allowed to chose numbers in junior hockey, things I always meant to ask....
wake up, get dressed- I was going home to spend the day shopping with my mom and sisters and was looking forward to spending time with them. Hadnt heard from my mom yet, so I sat at the computer to see if anyone had left me messages overnight. As the screen popped up, I saw a message from a friend in Syracuse. " You better head over to Dave's message board" it said. Innocent enough, thought I, maybe there's some news of a signing or something of interest along those lines. I scrolled down past my away message to see if she said anything more and my eyes fell on three words. three words that will haunt me forever. it still makes me sick and sad just to think them. the finality of those words is so complete, so uttely shattering that all I could do was gape at the screen in horror. "Trevor is dead"
now, the gal that sent the message wasn't one to joke like that, it was no secret that I had feelings for Trevor and really thats just a sick thing to say to anyone. but my mind didn't want to believe anything so insane so I grasped at anything. quickly I called Morgan into the room, I couldnt even utter the sentence, I had to show her. so we checked out the message board. there was a message from a fella who claimed to live in Trevor's hometown. he said that Trevor had been found dead at his home the day before and thats all that he knew. he assured us that he was not playing some awful trick but again, we did not want to believe something so horrid could be real. no one knew anything about the guy who posted, so we all tried to hope that it was a hoax. a sick, twisted thing but anything would be better than reality. thats what I told myself too. And I headed home trying to decide what to think. so far there had been no confirmation, nothing in any newspapers or official websites. he lived in a tiny town in Nova Scotia though, and while somewhat known for his hockey skills in Dayton and Syracuse, Ettinger was not exactly a household name. so, the rational part of myself said, even if something did happen, there's nothing to say that it would be anywhere official.... YET. but I clung to the belief that since no official word was released, it must not be true. when I got to the house, no one was there. i jumped on the computer, almost against my will, and checked the board again. this time a message from Dave. he had confirmed the awful rumor with folks that would be in a position to know. and it was true. Trevor Ettinger was indeed dead. when I read that, I sat on the floor in my parent's house and bawled for a good 5-10 minutes. still no no one was home. i composed myself and waited.
I didnt tell my family. they had never actually met him, though I talked of him often. I used to joke that I was going to marry him, and my mom would just smile and say "he seems like a good kid". so, while I was bursting and wailing inside, i said nothing to them. everyone was in a really great mood, and I didnt want to damper their spirits. and there was a part of me that thought maybe if I didnt say anything, then it wasnt actually real. illogical, I know, but thats how the mind works. it was silent misery but if anyone noticed, they said nothing. and I said nothing. we passed the day in happy companionship and I went back to my apartment that night, back to the sick reality that I knew would face me. back to the computer screen with those three ugly words. and I read them again, and this time I wept. I wept like I havent before, and probably not since then.
I couldnt help but cry. At this point, it was unknown exactly how he had died, but the word suicide kept floating up. no one wanted to believe that either, Trevor had seemed to happy, so full of life. and yet, we realized as we talked, the miles between us meaning nothing, as fans from many cities shared the grief and memories of a man who touched so many lives, that we didnt know him. not really. we knew the man he wished to show us. he was a great warrior on the ice, always ready to come to the aid of a teammate, always ready to take the hit, end the fight, put himself on the line, time and time again for his mates and his fans. and off the ice, he was so jovial, always ready with a smile, a handshake, a picture. that goofy grin was never far and the laugh always at hand. how had this man come to a place that was so dark he thought he had to leave the world? didnt he know how much he was loved? this we struggled with, our hockey family, brought together in grief, shock and disbelief when we should have been brought together through triumph and the adrenaline rush that is a hockey game. but minor league hockey is always about more than just the game. its about the players as well. as they give of themselves on and off the ice, so we take them in and make them feel welcome in a place often far from their homes. for 6-8 months of a year, the fans become their family and home. and they, in turn, become our surrogate brothers, friends. and now one of them had left us. of his own will. it was too much.
that night was hell. I downed a bottle of wine and talked and cried with Morgan (who knew him) and my other roomie Melissa, who hadn't known him but through the stories I sometimes told. they let me talk and cry and I felt a little better but when I tried to go to bed, all I could think about was Trevor. and his smile, his laugh, the way he used to fight, his friendliness, always ready with a grin, a chuckle, handshake.... and once.. a hug. I could not get it out of my mind, when I went to Syracuse the previous March, to see him play a few games. he hadn't known I was there, but after the game, he came out, was talking with some kids, then he saw me. I cant forget the look in his eyes. they lit up, and immediately a radiant smile broke through his tired features. he strode right up to me, through a crowd of small children and hugged me. no hesitation, the way one might greet a friend or a sister after a long absence. it was a true hug, unasked for, given straight from the heart. a proper, 2-armed embrace for the feeling of the moment. my heart swelled so mught I thought I would have burst on the spot, and it still makes me happy to recall that moment. I can feel the his sweat on my neck, where my skin touched his drenched shirt (he had not yet showered) I remember the feel of him, sticky and sweet, smelling like hockey which is at once revolting and oddly comforting. and when I drew away from him, he was once more smiling.
that is how I wish to remember Trevor. Not as an article in the paper, anazlying just why he did it and how he did it. Not as a statistic. not as a number, though numbers have meaning and I'll always associate 63 with him. no. As a smile, as a laugh, as the carefree man playing a boy's game with a boy's youthful passion and exuberance. As the man who gave me so much of himself that day at the skating rink when he offered me his hand, the little mischevious boy who played with my hair that nihgt in the bar, the hockey-player who appreicated our signs and "fan club" attitude, and the friend, that night at the game, who, after a 4-month separation, called me by name and hugged me tightly. Because, while I may not know known Trevor well, I knew him enough to know that I loved him. and I will always love him.
and I shall ask that, after reading this, those of you that are so inclined, please offer up a prayer, not for me, but for the soul of Trevor, that he may find the peace and happiness that he couldn't on this earth. and for his mother, who found him on that fateful day one year ago, for I cannot even begin to know the pain that she must live with every day. for she must be such a remarkable woman, to have raised such a son.
and thus it ends, the story thats been inside me, waiting for the complete telling for a year now. i feel better now that it's all out. thank you for reading. it truly means a lot ot me.