Bowie

Where were you when you heard David Bowie died?
On Facebook, I'll say.  Reading the news.

My heart dropped.  This rarely happens.  I can only name three of his songs.  One probably doesn't count since its a Christmas song with Bing Crosby.   
Zero impact on my life.  Zero memories can be traced to him.  Still, my heart dropped.  This rarely happens when it involves someone from his world.

I've got a sick feeling in my stomach over this.  Dark clouds forming.  Sadness, I can't pinpoint.  And I become fascinated by this.  Jesus, I hope he found You.  There are no atheists in foxholes.  I didn't even know his belief system.  It's just what went through my mind.

Bowie had a birthday on Friday.  Same day, released a new album and a music video.  Some weird shit, I am guessing.  Two days later, gone.   And my heart sank.

Maybe, I was projecting.  A realization I am older.  Mom is his age. One month apart, to be exact.  Still, I am affected.  Can't put my finger on why.

People are crying.  LOL.  Just like they do when anyone famous dies.  Obscure or Iconic.  There's always someone crying.  This time, I listen.  Why are they crying for him?  What makes him different?  Meanwhile, my heart feels heavier than normal.

To get over someone, turn them into literature.  It's my best advice for anyone grieving.  So, I take my own advice and attempt to write about someone I know very little about or ever really cared much for.  I'd say indifferent, really. 

I'm getting nowhere. 

Still, my heart is heavier than normal. 

So, I push myself to find the source of this sadness.  I watch his last music video; one, intentionally released to coincide with his death.  A gift to his fans, his publicist states.

And I am haunted by what I see and hear   It is now forever cemented into my psyche.  And my heart sinks a little lower. 

Didn't know he had cancer.  Seems no one did.  And I find humility in that revelation.  In a world of self-importance where narcissism is the norm, he resisted what most could not but what was well deserved.  No farewell tour.  No adulating fans soaking him in sympathy.  And I find that to be graceful.


And I just stop writing.