Friday, June 26, 2009

And Pop Mourns...

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.

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