Yesterday, June 25th, 2009, American icon and music legend Michael Jackson passed away. As did Farah Fawcett, an American legend in her own right. Farah was suffering from a cancer that was taking her life, and I have seen her documentary, read what I can about her condition, and have been affected by her suffering for months. She seemed to be a fighter, a good person, and most importantly, someone in pain. And I can only hurt for those people. Her death was sad, but expected, and that makes a world of difference compared to the unexpected.
Michael Jackson was 50 years old, and did not, I repeat, did not die from anesthesia for another nose job. He appears to have not lost his mind completely and committed suicide. He was in shape, had just passed a rigorous physical assessment to get insured for his upcoming tour, and he was fifty years old. After dying from a massive heart attack, he left his fans, his family, the world, emotionally unprepared and shocked. His body of work will live on for longer than I can even wrap my head around.
What I had seen of him in interviews and biographies was that he was emotionally stunted, maybe even mentally stunted. He lived like like a carefree child, naming one of his children blanket, inviting strange kids to play on his property, partnering up with his "best friend," a monkey. He purchased things like solid gold tombs, and if I find any articles, I will share them here, because my memory is about as reliable as a sieve these days. His money ran out, he disowned family members because they mistreated him, in his eyes, and he lived the past two decades as a hidden mythical homebody, of sorts. He was able to look at life with a sense of youth and wonderment, while also being fearful and guarded. He may not have suffered from a disease for many years, he may have created his on bed to lie in, but I can't help but to feel overwhelmingly sorrowful for the way his many, many chips landed.
And I can always cherish the first memory that pops into my head when I think of him: Singing "Heal The World" in a sixth grade choral concert, and really belting out his message, because I believed in it. Believe in it.