Whitney

I always say that I am not really interested in what goes on in the lives of celebrities and people that are not in my immediate circle.

Well, Whitney Houston died yesterday afternoon and I had to re-evaluate my thoughts about my interest in people; mainly people who populate our airwaves and screens and how their existence plays an important role in my life.

Reading the thoughts of people posting on Facebook yesterday was enlightening as most offered prayers and expressed sadness at her early demise. Others had harsher commentary and it seemed thought she got what she deserved as a substance abuser.

I am not an avid fan of Whitney; yet I do know her music and have danced to and lustily sang her songs. I have seen and enjoyed all of the movies she has been in and re-watched them on television. I have watched with sadness her descent into the hell that is addiction. I have cheered her on as she gamely tried to fight her way out of that hell. And…I have nodded knowingly as she would fall back into that pit.

I am not here to judge anyone; all of our journeys are individual, private and ultimately what defines us when we leave this crazy splendor called life. Even those who populate the public eye are working out a private journey; it is just one we can see played out on the big and now little screen. We are all watching each other’s private journey play out day to day. It is when we are open to the possibility that some of us will fall and may never get up that we learn tolerance. I cannot berate you for your weaknesses when I possess so many of my own.

Addiction. Fortunately for me, my biggest addiction seems to be the love of a pork chop. I know addiction first hand; growing up with an alcoholic mother and sibling. Addictions ravage not only the people living out that horror but everyone around them, in ways more numerous than I care to expand. Almost everyone I know has someone in their lives: immediate or extended who battle some type of addiction. It is our process, evaluation and determination of it that makes the difference.

The passing of Whitney gave me pause and allowed me to do some introspective work that I needed to do and here is what I have come up with from my midnight musings.

Simply this; Whitney had a beautiful voice and face. She was excellent to look at and to listen to and she made a difference. She made a difference in my life because she made me pause: pause when she was on top of the world and at its underbelly. A gift was shared, perhaps in a way that isn’t immediately clear to all of us looking in at this short span of life. Whitney could have gone underground when her world was unraveling but she stayed where we could see her and perhaps that is the gift she left us; a reminder of what can and cannot be, what should and should not be and what is and was.

Understanding is what is key as we wish her farewell. Understanding of a life lived perhaps not the way we would but one that affected some of us anyway. We pay homage to her by listening to her music and perhaps reliving a memory her melody brings to mind because more than anything Whitney evoked emotion and that is a true testament to life.

I hope that many, many, many years from now when I leave this amazing globe I’m remembered for good things done or said and that the not-so-nice things are either a lesson or reminder to those who care to take a moment to remember me.

Rest in Peace Whitney, may your spirit find a new home that keeps you smiling and singing.