"Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I'm a thousand winds, that blow.
I'm the diamond glimpse of snow.
I'm the sunlight on the thriving green
I am the gentle autumns rain.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there. I didn't die." (Writer unknown)
Dear Michael Jackson,
Last night, we were watching NBA Drafts. They were broadcasting from Madison Square Garden, New York. Soon-to-be NBA players, all suited up, were anxiously waiting for their names to be announced by one of the NBA teams. All of a sudden, my husband said "Michael Jackson is dead". I knew you were hospitalized a few hours ago. But "dead"? You know what Michael, the moment when a child realizes that she has actually grown is not when she graduates from college, or not when she starts working, or not when she gets married and has kids. That moment comes when faces and voices that she knows from her childhood start to disappear. One by one. That's why growing up has nothing to do with aging but losing. Losing people, losing faces, losing voices. The earlier you lose, the faster you grow up. That's a lesson my father taught me.
Today is the day when many people one more time realized that they are going to die some day. Like you did Michael. Today they know that they are not eternal. Today they realize, but tomorrow they'll forget. Until someone from their family or close circle dies. Until a celebrity passes away. Then they'll remember again.
"When we die" is important, I know. Nobody wants to die young I guess. But "how we die" is more important Michael. There are million ways of dying when you come to think of it. I really, really hope yours was a smooth and painless farewell.
Rest in peace.
