"You're kidding me."
We had just finished unwrapping presents, and were about to sit-down to Christmas dinner. There was a huge feast set on the counter, with all the scents and smells you'd expect, including a roast beef that literally kicked my salivary glands into overproduction.
But my appetite was gone.
Another person in the room was checking his Facebook stream, and read the news out loud: George Michael is dead.
Immediately the flashbacks of a teenage Brian came flooding back. I had just got home from the drug store where I had purchased what would become my prize possession for the next couple of years. I had first seen the group "Wham" on MTV, and that first single was unlike anything I had ever heard. Cassette in hand (I feel old having to explain this, so I won't. Kids, Google "cassette"), I rode my bike back home as fast as I could.
The very first song that came out of my bedroom speakers was THE song. I wasn't much of a dancer, but I still felt the rhythm. Looking back, I think the innocence of the whole thing is the most touching. I played the entire album...er cassette... "Make It Big" from start to finish, over and over, about 4 times that afternoon.
Yet it wouldn't be until years later that I would truly come to appreciate the talents that belonged the George Michael. Sure, he had his struggles, and his dark moments, but so did Sinatra, my all time favorite. George Michael's voice and writing talents were giant leaps above his contemporaries. His voice. Wow, so clear and yet so breathtaking. I never EVER could sing that high, but don't for a minute think I didn't constantly try.
He would eventually record Roberta Flack's "The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face," and to this day, it's my favorite recording of his. Sure, he had many other songs with very powerful messages, but there is something about how he treats every line that brings tears to my eyes right now just thinking of it. It cuts me to the core, with a beauty I'm not sure I've ever experienced in a song since.
When I heard George had died, I heard his voice in my head singing this song.
When something or someone is suddenly gone, what's the first thing you think about? You feel loss, but what is it that comes to mind about that person? Whatever it is, I believe that first thought is likely a memory of a time and place when that person's words, their smile, their laugh, or their song touched you in a way no other person could. Not to say you haven't felt touched like that since, but it was the way that person was in THAT moment that changed something inside you.
I think this is why I titled this post "Good Grief."
I learned a long time ago that everyone grieves differently, and that it's really not your place to judge how or why someone else grieves. Grief can leave you feeling lonely, heartbroken, and sometimes inconsolable. Yet through grief, we're also forced to remember those moments...the small, seemingly trivial moments...and that one moment I wrote about in the last paragraph. And I think that's a good thing. We always have our memories, and while sometimes they don't seem enough, they help us remember the impact that person had on our life.
To me, that's what life is about: Becoming vulnerable enough to love and to lose. In those moments, I grow the most. Not that either are extremely comfortable, but in every relationship I have, there was THAT moment. And it couldn't have happened had I not been extremely open, precariously vulnerable, and recklessly willing. The payoff? I know I'm a better man for it. Just like the Grinch, I think my heart grows a little bit larger each time it happens.
Perhaps the best tribute to those you've loved and lost is remembering "the moment" you shared with them. Maybe it's that one thing that defined what that person meant to you. Maybe it was a silly moment, or perhaps an intense moment. Whatever it was, in that moment, you bonded in a way that's hard to explain. And I believe that's why when that person is gone, your mind and your heart find it's way back to "the moment."
My Grandma Daisy: Sitting in church with her on her lap, as she tracked a pencil around the fingers in my outstretched hand. I looked up at her, and I can still see her smile.
My Grandma Wink: Sitting in the audience of "The Price Is Right." She couldn't stand the show, but knew I wanted to go since I was 4. She took me there, and really made a dream come true.
Big Jim Wilson: The first time he said "Good job, Beejer." I was 23 years old, and had just finished my first day on air replacing the morning man of over 30 years.
Jane Shannon: The very first time we co-anchored a newscast together. She burped, and I farted. You would really have to know both of us to understand how momentous of a moment that was. Usually when I get the giggles, my co-anchor can bail me out. This was the only time I ever had to go to commercial because both of us couldn't stop laughing.
Walter Cronkite: In the 5 minutes I had with him at "Happy Hour" he asked me about the kind of stories I preferred to write. I tried to be cool, and he stopped me. "What do you really like to write, Brian?" As he took a sip of his drink, I responded "I really like to write about people, and the good things they do." Uncle Walter put down his drink and said "Kid, you're leagues ahead than the others here."
Frank Sinatra: I never met the man, but the first time I heard his recording of "The Summer Wind," I felt his unique phrasing, storytelling, and sense of rhythm hit me between the eyes. It felt like my eyes were opening for the first time.
Carrie Fisher: After the most delightful 5 minute interview I had in a long time, her bear hug around my neck indicated she felt the same. Gosh, I wish I could find that picture.
I'm reading posts by a lot of people who are pretty upset with 2016. We have lost a lot this past year. But I guarantee your day, and your new year will be better, if you take the time to remember how and when that person made such an impression on you.
I've laughed and cried, and you might do the same, but I bet you'll eventually find something to smile about.
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