Laid to rest?
You are probably sick of the unending trivia that has somehow emerged from June 25. You've probably had too much information about MJ's life, his untimely death and perhaps his after life.
Oddly, though its hard to admit, I can't seem to get enough. The closet fan in me found it hard to wipe away the tears while watching his memorial last night. Now I never wore a sequined glove or moonwalked. I never even bought an MJ record in my life. But heck, I remember most of his songs and have probably a decent recollection of every music video in the past 15 years.
Perhaps that is why I felt I had to be a part of the memorial. Not an invited guest but one that watched from the comfort of my home. As the tributes flowed from one person to the next. One personality to another, I'm sure there were few dry eyes all around. Queen Latifah was right, he did make us feel like he was someone we knew. Someone dancing just for us.
Will this be my last mention of MJ? That is something I don't have the answer to. But I hope like Pastor Lucious Smith mentioned, we take a lesson from all of this and remember to make that change that the song Man in the mirror asked us to.
Here's the moving piece that Maya Angelou asked to be read at the service...
We had him
Beloveds, now we know that we know nothing, now that our bright and shining star can slip away from our fingertips like a puff of summer wind.
Without notice, our dear love can escape our doting embrace. Sing our songs among the stars and walk our dances across the face of the moon.
In the instant that Michael is gone, we know nothing. No clocks can tell time. No oceans can rush our tides with the abrupt absence of our treasure.
Though we are many, each of us is achingly alone, piercingly alone.
Only when we confess our confusion can we remember that he was a gift to us and we did have him.
He came to us from the creator, trailing creativity in abundance.
Despite the anguish, his life was sheathed in mother love, family love, and survived and did more than that.
He thrived with passion and compassion, humor and style. We had him whether we know who he was or did not know, he was ours and we were his.
We had him, beautiful, delighting our eyes.
His hat, aslant over his brow, and took a pose on his toes for all of us.
And we laughed and stomped our feet for him.
We were enchanted with his passion because he held nothing. He gave us all he had been given.
Today in Tokyo, beneath the Eiffel Tower, in Ghana's Black Star Square.
In Johannesburg and Pittsburgh, in Birmingham, Alabama, and Birmingham, England
We are missing Michael.
But we do know we had him, and we are the world.
Oddly, though its hard to admit, I can't seem to get enough. The closet fan in me found it hard to wipe away the tears while watching his memorial last night. Now I never wore a sequined glove or moonwalked. I never even bought an MJ record in my life. But heck, I remember most of his songs and have probably a decent recollection of every music video in the past 15 years.
Perhaps that is why I felt I had to be a part of the memorial. Not an invited guest but one that watched from the comfort of my home. As the tributes flowed from one person to the next. One personality to another, I'm sure there were few dry eyes all around. Queen Latifah was right, he did make us feel like he was someone we knew. Someone dancing just for us.
Will this be my last mention of MJ? That is something I don't have the answer to. But I hope like Pastor Lucious Smith mentioned, we take a lesson from all of this and remember to make that change that the song Man in the mirror asked us to.
Here's the moving piece that Maya Angelou asked to be read at the service...
We had him
Beloveds, now we know that we know nothing, now that our bright and shining star can slip away from our fingertips like a puff of summer wind.
Without notice, our dear love can escape our doting embrace. Sing our songs among the stars and walk our dances across the face of the moon.
In the instant that Michael is gone, we know nothing. No clocks can tell time. No oceans can rush our tides with the abrupt absence of our treasure.
Though we are many, each of us is achingly alone, piercingly alone.
Only when we confess our confusion can we remember that he was a gift to us and we did have him.
He came to us from the creator, trailing creativity in abundance.
Despite the anguish, his life was sheathed in mother love, family love, and survived and did more than that.
He thrived with passion and compassion, humor and style. We had him whether we know who he was or did not know, he was ours and we were his.
We had him, beautiful, delighting our eyes.
His hat, aslant over his brow, and took a pose on his toes for all of us.
And we laughed and stomped our feet for him.
We were enchanted with his passion because he held nothing. He gave us all he had been given.
Today in Tokyo, beneath the Eiffel Tower, in Ghana's Black Star Square.
In Johannesburg and Pittsburgh, in Birmingham, Alabama, and Birmingham, England
We are missing Michael.
But we do know we had him, and we are the world.
I wanted to read some more!
ReplyDeleteI loved the beginning where you mentioned Michael had an undeniable impact on our lives, whether we liked him or not. He truly was the King of Pop. RIP.