For Kyle...

My heart has been hurting over the past 24 hours or so. Thursday, May 21, was a dark, dark day for me and everyone else whose lives Kyle Busch impacted.

I’m writing this on May 22, just about 24 hours after hearing the news of Busch’s tragic passing at the age of 41. I’m not releasing this until a few days from now, once I get back from Virginia, but I wanted to give my thoughts on a man who not only touched my life, but thousands, if not millions around the world.

I can recall exactly where I was when I heard the news. I was at one of my favorite restaurants on the boardwalk. I ordered my drinks, saw the news, and sobbed nonstop for 30 minutes. I cried the rest of the night, I think a lot of people did. I wept because I was sad, sure, and I’ll get into why I’m still emotional later on, but I just can’t help but think of everyone else.

I cried for Samantha, Kyle’s wife. He loved her so, so much. Hearing her struggles over the years to now, becoming a widow, gosh, I mean that just rips your heart out, doesn’t it? Kyle wasn’t just a champion on the track, he was one off of it too. He loved that woman with all his heart.

I cried for Brexton, his 11-year-old son. Kyle was so involved in his racing career and was setting him up to be a future NASCAR star. Brexton was Kyle’s world, and he dreamed of one day racing against him in the Truck Series. That dream not getting to be realized is so upsetting. Brexton not only lost his mentor, he lost his father. 

I cried for Lennix, his four-year-old daughter. The memory of her dad is mostly going to come in the form of stories, photographs, and videos. While I cried a lot over all the tributes, the last dance with his daughter in his house was the one that made me cry the most. 

I cried for RCR and the racing community as a whole. They lost one of their own who they competed against and shared paint with. Many of the drivers lived their lives and got accustomed to the sport alongside Kyle. There’s some that don’t know what NASCAR is without Kyle Busch. The bond in the racing community is extremely tight, and when tragedy strikes, this group is bonded like no other. To see the posts and messages from the drivers, alumni, team owners and more brings a smile to my face, and it warms my heart to know he was so loved by everyone in that garage.

I cried for my fellow members of Rowdy Nation. I will go out on a limb and say there’s no more passionate group out there every Sunday, cheering on our beloved Kyle. Sure, I’m probably a little biased, but we lost our hero today. Our guiding light. For some, we lost a little bit of us. We lost someone who we can relate to, look up to, and grow up with. Many of us saw Kyle go from a teenager to a superstar. While I did not get into the sport until the back-half of Kyle’s career, the ones who have ridden with him since 2001 are the ones who I truly grieve for.

And then…I cried for me. For Kyle.

If you have ever seen me on a Sunday over the past number of years, you know how much Kyle Busch meant to me. You’ve seen me go nuts, feel optimistic, tense up, yell or become overcome with sadness solely based on how that number 8 car was running that day. Whether he was leading the field, chasing P1, running mid-pack or sometimes just not feeling like himself, he was still Kyle Busch. To me, he was Superman. Rowdy was going out there and doing things on four wheels it felt like only a superman could do. I never got to watch Richard Petty or Dale Earnhardt race his car, but I watched Kyle Busch race his. And he was the best I’ve ever seen do it.

I was fortunate enough to meet Kyle twice, once before the Daytona 500 in 2023 and the second before the same race in 2026. My buddy I was with asked if I wanted to stay for Kyle and I responded that I had to. I wanted to tell one of my heroes how much he meant to me, and boy am I glad I made that decision just three months later. He said he appreciated all the support over the years, and although my dang phone camera wouldn’t cooperate, it was a blessing to be able to express my gratitude to Rowdy.

I’ve wondered if this was how the sentiment was after the passing of Dale Earnhardt in 2001. It just doesn’t feel real that he’s gone, and that my favorite driver, the reason I got into NASCAR as a passion and one of my idols…is gone. In an instant, my Sundays are now going to feel different.

After his final win in Dover’s Truck Series race, Kyle discussed at the start-finish line why he appreciated that win so much. In typical Rowdy fashion, he stated, “because you never know when the last one is.” Those words, while strong at the time, hold an even stronger amount of emotional value now.

I’m still struggling pretty hard with this news, and it will take me some time to process Kyle’s passing. For some reason, I feel like I’m in that “lost a small part of me” category, and I certainly felt that on Thursday. Days, weeks, months, and years from now, I will shed a tear because of the great memories I have seeing that 18 car in victory lane, reliving his two Cup Series Championships, and all of those bows after his many, many race wins.

Hug your loved ones extra tight tonight. Just like Kyle said, you never know when the last one is.

Thank you for everything, Kyle, the wins, the laughs, the tears, the smiles, the memories, the joy, the laughter, but most importantly, thank you for the life you lived.

Thank you, Kyle Busch, for being Kyle Busch.