This morning, after my morning meditation, I switched on my laptop. I wanted to check my email. I went to Yahoo.com and I saw the simple words: 'Singer Whitney Houston Found Dead'. I was shocked; I ran downstairs to inform my sis. We switched on Sky News and watched the truth unfold before our stunned and tear laden eyes, just to confirm the headline that I had just read. She was really and truly gone; the light had dimmed.
I'm not a person who star worships or puts 'celebrities' up on pedestals. Don't get me wrong, I love the odd bit of gossip now and then, but I do not live vicariously through the lives of celebrities. And the cult of celebrity right now seems to be a booming industry, both online and offline, but I do not really pay attention to it at all. However, Whitney, to me, personified my growing years; she was the soundtrack to my mid twenties when I first became a mother, and I guess, responsible for another life. I am the same age as Whitney - she was born in August 1963, I was born in September 1963. Obviously, our lives were completely different, but there was always something about Whitney that I was pulling for; even when allegations that turned into truth about her drug use, I wanted to raise her up and believe in her, regardless of her circumstances. She had such a wonderful talent, but when I used to see pictures of her looking unkempt and bedraggled, coming out of seedy nightclubs - especially the last images I saw of her the other day - I shook my head and my inner voice joined the ongoing cacophony of the choir judging Whitney.
Whitney's voice brings back so many sweet memories for me, and her voice was extraordinary when she was at the apex of her vocal dexterity. But the positive always aligns, like the planets, with the negative when writing about Whitney. It was well documented in the media about her demons, but don't we all have our own internal demons? This is not to excuse or justify what she was doing with herself regarding her drug use, but it seems so sad so tragic, may I say, so inevitable, from what I have read so far, of her dying alone in a hotel room in Hollywood.
I'm sure all of the salacious and scandalous stories will emerge like a cancerous tumour in the aftermath of her passing; the blame pointed squarely at her ex husband, Bobby Brown for leading her down this drug laden path, and other negative variables surrounding her death; the superficial tributes and chatter from her 'friends' and from the very industry that she was part of, that inevitably, was the loss of herself and physical death of Whitney Houston.
But from me, a lover of great music and who appreciated the stellar quality of your amazing vocals, Whitney, your voice was superlative. Period. Nobody in my lifetime, in my opinion, could touch you when you sang.
Whitney, my sweet, blessed sister, you had your raging demons, that were always on display and broadcast like venom to the world. We have them as well, but we are fortunate that we can hide them so they are not broadcasted and judged so viciously.
May you rest in eternal paradise Whitney, and hopefully you can find peace there where you couldn't here, on earth.
I'm not a person who star worships or puts 'celebrities' up on pedestals. Don't get me wrong, I love the odd bit of gossip now and then, but I do not live vicariously through the lives of celebrities. And the cult of celebrity right now seems to be a booming industry, both online and offline, but I do not really pay attention to it at all. However, Whitney, to me, personified my growing years; she was the soundtrack to my mid twenties when I first became a mother, and I guess, responsible for another life. I am the same age as Whitney - she was born in August 1963, I was born in September 1963. Obviously, our lives were completely different, but there was always something about Whitney that I was pulling for; even when allegations that turned into truth about her drug use, I wanted to raise her up and believe in her, regardless of her circumstances. She had such a wonderful talent, but when I used to see pictures of her looking unkempt and bedraggled, coming out of seedy nightclubs - especially the last images I saw of her the other day - I shook my head and my inner voice joined the ongoing cacophony of the choir judging Whitney.
Whitney's voice brings back so many sweet memories for me, and her voice was extraordinary when she was at the apex of her vocal dexterity. But the positive always aligns, like the planets, with the negative when writing about Whitney. It was well documented in the media about her demons, but don't we all have our own internal demons? This is not to excuse or justify what she was doing with herself regarding her drug use, but it seems so sad so tragic, may I say, so inevitable, from what I have read so far, of her dying alone in a hotel room in Hollywood.
I'm sure all of the salacious and scandalous stories will emerge like a cancerous tumour in the aftermath of her passing; the blame pointed squarely at her ex husband, Bobby Brown for leading her down this drug laden path, and other negative variables surrounding her death; the superficial tributes and chatter from her 'friends' and from the very industry that she was part of, that inevitably, was the loss of herself and physical death of Whitney Houston.
But from me, a lover of great music and who appreciated the stellar quality of your amazing vocals, Whitney, your voice was superlative. Period. Nobody in my lifetime, in my opinion, could touch you when you sang.
Whitney, my sweet, blessed sister, you had your raging demons, that were always on display and broadcast like venom to the world. We have them as well, but we are fortunate that we can hide them so they are not broadcasted and judged so viciously.
May you rest in eternal paradise Whitney, and hopefully you can find peace there where you couldn't here, on earth.
No comments:
Post a Comment