"Give sorrow words. The grief that does not speak whispers the o'erfraught heart and bids it break."
Last night, I was ecstatic, delirious with anticipation. Something was trying to speak through me and the only thing I could compare it with was the feeling when you're going to board an airplane or pickup someone you love from the airport. I asked if anyone was expecting company that I didn't know about but the answer was no. Then the music played. I heard instruments being tuned up for a concert and yee gads, nobody else heard it. A musician was coming to town is what my heart was saying and he would be talked about internationally. My town? No way. The butterflies and excitement continued until I went to bed but without any other clue except that I knew angels were involved in a very huge way!
Today, as I was trying to maneuver into the correct lane during butt to butt rush hour traffic, I heard the tragic news of Michael Jackson's death. My bubble had just been popped and yes, I mourn. Every station was playing his songs. My family loved him and my friends loved him. My memories are hugely connected to his music and my creative mind can't understand why other people labeled him as odd. He tapped into the endless field of possibilities with his talent that most people dare to even imagine.
I'm so touched that he is being welcomed hugely into Heaven which brings comfort now but jealous that we have lost another musical genius. After my busy errands today, there is a strange name on my machine. I read it three times and then happily screamed that it was my ninth grade best friend who I've lost contact with. How did she find me thirty some years later?
Maybe she heard Michael's song, "I'll Be There" or maybe it was "Ben", either way she found me. I will speak of the fun he created and not his quirkiness. After all, wasn't I myself gluing eggshells on the back of a Careers game board at two in the morning? Who are we to talk?