The grief sometimes gets so heavy that it's physically hard to breathe. The wound never heals. Little things -- like hearing a certain song on the radio -- just rip the scab right off.

We joke about having late-onset ADD. There are plenty of days I can't tell you what day it is. I can't remember my phone number. If you stopped me on the street and asked me, 'How old are you?' I couldn't tell you.

Our lifestyles haven't changed. Just our lives.

It still takes you by surprise. Some days you can't get out of bed. It's a down like you can't even begin to describe.

I'm hearing it from all the guys. I expect to. I deserve it. I would give myself grief. If someone else did that, I'd tell them about it.

The place still smells like an old locker room. I go in there every once in a while just to breathe it in. Believe it or not, it smells pretty good to me.