This has been a very painful, emotional week, and I personally am glad the day has come. The closer the 20th anniversary of Len Bias's death approached, and the closer the deadlines came for the column I wrote for Sunday's paper and for Monday's paper, the more the memories trickled in. I was a little surprised at how clear my recollection still was of what that day was like, and I hope that Monday's column reflects that. I realized after I wrote the one for Monday, that it physically hurt to write them.

I also realized that I have gotten a feeling of dread, unease, even pain in a way, every year on that date. It's just one of those dates that always will be significant. Last year, before Game 5 of the NBA Finals in Auburn Hills, a group of writers from the area sat around at dinner and talked about it, realizing that the 20th anniversary was a year away. The conversation started because one of us said, "Today is June 19. You know what day that is.'' Everybody knew.

For the Monday column, I made myself stick to the feelings of that single day. To think about everything that happened after that would have been a lot to gather and turn into one column, and it would have taken up the entire section. All of those recollections came back easily, too. I decided not to go to the funeral at the chapel, because I knew I wouldn't be able to handle it. When I saw the pictures of his brother Jay, walking behind the casket as it left the chapel, crying almost uncontrollably, I knew I was right. I did go to the memorial service later that afternoon; Cole was packed, and it all seemed unreal that it was packed for that reason, of all things.

I remember Mrs. Bias speaking, and I remember Jesse Jackson. At the time, everyone was still willing to believe that all the reports about cocaine being a factor was a mistake, or a lie, so when Jesse talked about how the children should grieve, but they should also learn, the atmosphere got really uncomfortable. After the service, I went to the Diamondback office, where several other staffers were gathered, and listened live on the radio to the medical examiner's press conference. He confirmed that the heart attack was caused by cocaine. From that moment on, it seemed as if we would hear the phrase "cocaine-induced death of basketball star Len Bias'' every day for the rest of eternity.

When Maryland made the Final Four for the second time in 2002, I wrote about that for my former paper, the feeling of finally being able to admit to having graduated from Maryland with pride instead of trying to hide it. Living and working in Florida, New York, Connecticut and California during the 16 years that separated Len Bias's death and Maryland's national championship, it gradually became impossible to tell where you went to school without an interrogation, a smart-ass comment, even a display of sympathy for having lived such a wretched existence. Duke alumni anguished over the stain the lacrosse scandal is leaving on your school's name - you should consider yourselves lucky. You have no idea how bad it can get.

The sadness never went away, though, not even with that championship and the return of Maryland's overall reputation. I knew that when I spoke to Len Bias's mother on the phone last week, and when I met her in person when the photographer took the photo that ran with Sunday's column. It was, in fact, the first time I had met her. I got slightly choked up on the phone, and also when I met her and told her, 20 years after the fact, how sorry I was about her son (and about Jay). That probably was slightly unprofessional. Being any other way, though, would have been fake.

By Monday afternoon, there should be a special edition of my weekly podcast up on the Sun website and on iTunes. Four of us here at the Sun - three who were at Maryland while Bias was there, and the fourth who was at Howard at the time - will talk about this anniversary. It will cover a lot of ground. Listen in if you get a chance.

Then it will be time to rejoin the sports world that Bias left 20 years ago. Back to the Finals, the World Cup, the U.S. Open and baseball - where, it turns out, drugs are the story of the day. Apparently his death and the lessons from it didn't sink in there. Different drugs, but still.