All successful poker players go bust at one time or another and the measure of champions is their ability to overcome loss. But what happens when you lose yourself? To taste victory, you have to swallow defeat.
Not a bankroll, not a car or house, but whole parts of you as a person. Not an existential discovery to one’s id, but having to bury pieces of you that were ripped away too soon.
How do you recover from a loss so great that you see no hope? How do you watch cancer steal your best friend and Irish twin? How do you pull your wife back from the edge? How do you tell your daughter that she’ll always be an only child?
Those were the losses I had to mitigate in 2023. Within six months, I lost my sister, a daughter, our savings and most of my hope. I was four years removed from poker after choosing to be a stay-at-home dad and support my wife in running a business.
Before my sister’s hospice care, there were a couple of hospitalizations. I stopped working, took care of her as best I could and lived at the hospital during her last month.
In the weeks after Laura’s passing in February, we were fighting to stay afloat when we learned we were pregnant. It was a sign to us that Laura had one last gift to give before she passed, so we chose the name Laura May to honor her legacy.
Then our world crashed around us, again. Laura May tested positive for Trisomy 18 – a severe genetic condition. The doctor’s voice turned into mumbled drones after I heard, “life expectancy of hours to days, birth defects…”
I couldn’t hear anything, I had tunnel vision and all the breath was taken out of me. Trisomy 18 has no cure, no treatment and very little hope.
That’s when I thought I knew what 2023 would deal me. My new role in life was to be a special needs parent. So much of my identity was lost when Laura passed, as I defined myself as the big brother. Now I could care for another.
I struggled to keep my little family afloat and my journals sat empty. The pain was too real and too overwhelming to put pen to paper.
Then I got my first win. My idol in the business, Brad Willis, called me up, pitched me on PokerOrg and told me to take the weekend to think about writing in poker again. I accepted without waiting or talking to my wife and the creative spark was stoked again.
Tina and I endured weekly specialist appointments through May and June as I worked the WSOP remotely. My wife and I handled it as best we could – the uncertainty of Laura May’s health, life quality and expectancy.
Then, a routine appointment turned into a nightmare.
Our poor girl’s heart never fully developed and stopped. Tina endured a 24-hour stillbirth delivery and that’s when loss became tangible. All I could do was hold her hand and watch her suffer.
True loss is not a score to chase; it’s not something you ever win back. I lost parts of me, Tina lost parts of her that we’ll never get back. It’s the feeling in the pit of your stomach that nothing will ever be right again. It’s a towering wave of despair that you can never outrun.
Loss haunts you from table to table, from room to room. It’s a ghost sitting over every opponent’s shoulder that stares right through you and amplifies each negative thought.
Looking to shake off the losses following me, I stopped by their gravesite before starting my drive to Tunica. Laura May is at rest next to Laura. It seemed fitting as their lives are inextricably connected. Laura passed without having a child, something she would talk about occasionally during her life.
It was the first time I saw Laura May’s headstone.
I wasn’t prepared. In fact, I’m embarrassed to admit we couldn’t afford one. A family member ordered the stone and took care of the details. The losses and depression that followed us through 2023 burned through our savings to the point we’re still struggling to recover.
As time passed, more emotion came through my writing. I was digging deeper, finding compelling subjects and found a flow state while working. My interviews changed with a change in perspective and an urgency crept in to keep creating.
While the first two days in Tunica were not profitable, the beats at the table didn’t sting as much as they did last week. Having a pink headstone to touch, a vase to hold flowers and seeing Laura May and Laura side-by-side gave me a little closure that I hadn’t felt yet.
I still have two giant holes inside me that won’t be filled. Those are the losses that guide your life, change your behavior and inspire real change for life. I’m down at the tables so far for the project, in fact, I haven’t won a dime, but the losses I take on the felt won’t outweigh what I’ve lost and rebuilt.
Thank you for sharing such an emotional and powerful story. Life throws us some rotten curve balls but I’m proud to see how you are making sense of it. I’d love to catch-up some time soon, old friend.