The death and subsequent media frenzy of Michael Jackson has left me with feelings of melancholy.
Sara and I had this conversation today:
"Mom, was Michael Jackson a Christian?"
"I don't know, honey. I know his family was Christian when he was younger, but I'm not sure if he still was now."
"Oh.
'Cause I was just thinking that maybe Aunt Annette got to meet him finally in heaven".
"You know, I had the exact same thoughts the day that he died. I wondered, too, if they met up in heaven".
Then we proceded to talk about ALL the people in heaven. Quite a mix. Abraham. Noah. Aunt Annette. Oma. Maybe Elvis and Michael? One day we'll find out I guess.
Annette really liked Michael Jackson when she was a teenager. (She would probably not like me sharing this-ha!) She had the posters (I think) and the
Thriller album. (I need to dig that out album from Dad's house!). We even went to see the Jackson 5 in Toronto when they were on tour. Michael was just breaking out on his own, but still touring with his brothers (hmm... I wonder if there's still a concert souvenir guide somewhere in her or Dad's stuff...).
He
was a talented artist, entertainer, and dancer, no matter what you thought of him. But his death this week leaves me feeling melancholic because it brings back so many great memories of us dancing in the living room. Listening to the music. Seeing the concert. Teasing Annette for her love of Michael. Good and happy memories. Memories now tinged with sadness for a longing to share those memories with Annette first hand.
And this is exactly why there is such a communal interest and mourning when a young celebrity dies. We care so much because these people are intertwined with our lives, for better or worse. They are connected to our memories. They are a bridge to our past. We all know the phrase, "Where were you when...?". For that reason, I have felt sadness this week.
And I don't know if Michael was a Christian, but I still can't help but wonder if they met up in heaven.