It reminds one of 2009 when Michael Jackson said goodbye. Before his death, he was both the blessed and the cursed. Alive, he was maligned and ridiculed. Never mind what he did for music, what he gave the world. Mind only that he was not a saint, and oh what a sinner he was. So we have been told. And he died, and came alive the outpouring of love and sympathy. Geez, I can't make this writing right! What I can't express fully I make do with cliche. I'm sorry.
Today, it is Whitney. And what a day she chose to go: the eve of Grammys. The superstar wanted to be remembered, her songs recalled on the night where musicians and artists converge, where the best of the present time is called to stand up alone and be recognized. She didn't want to die a fallen star. She wanted her star to be up there alone in the limelight of Grammys. I, a speck in the universe, won't take that against her. She deserved it when she was still alive, she deserves it now even when she's gone.
Like Michael, she learned how cruel people can be. It is the kind of cruelty like no other. One time you're an angel, the next you're treated like dirt.
We say she had it coming, doing drugs, abusing alcohol. But who are we to judge people whose shoes we have not seen, much more walked in?
Whitney, you are Toni Morrison's "Sula."
Nel: You can't do it all. You a woman and a colored woman at that. You can't act like a man. You can't be walking around all independent-like, doing whatever you like, taking what you want, leaving what you don't.
Sula: You think I don't know what your life is like just because I ain't living it? I know what every colored woman in this country is doing.
Nel: What's that?
Sula: Dying. Just like me. But the difference is they dying like stump. Me, I'm going down like one of those redwoods. I sure did live in this world.
Ms. Houston, we will always love you.
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