Sometimes I think I'm pretty morbid. I tend to think about what will happen or how I'll feel when someone I love dies or some catastrophe happens. I don't know why I do it, but I've been doing it for a long time. I think in a way I believe it will help me cope whenever the inevitable happens: it's my strange way of trying to be prepared. But time and time again, no matter how I thought I'd deal with the death of someone I love, the pain and feeling of confusion I get never compares.
So I find myself here today. My favorite singer, my favorite celebrity, my favorite artist. Just my favorite. Michael Jackson is amazing. He was a trailblazer and the truest epitome of an icon. A phenomenon that won't be topped.
Oddly, I have thought about this day. I guess because I knew it would happen. Someone cannot live in such extreme pain but for so long. I take heart, though, in knowing that the suffering--both physical and emotional--is over here on Earth.
There are few people who cause me to be star struck, and only a few are entertainers. But I'm star struck by Michael, always. I've never met him or even come close to him, but I didn't need to. His presence comes though the TV, the radio, the records, the cassettes, the CDs. My mother took me to see Michael perform at the BAD tour in October 1988. I was six years old in the first grade. I understood its magnitude then and I understand it now. It's still the most amazing concert I've ever attended, and I look forward to telling my children all about it.
Tonight I will cry for a man I never met, but for a man I feel I've always known.
Today the music died, but it will live on forever.
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