The Day the Music Died
"July is going to be kick-ass..."
When I last left you, I was uber-confident about July being the best month ever (or something)...
So far, not so good.
Luther Vandross died today at the age of 54. At first I refused to believe it had happened, because I heard the news from a radio station notorious for giving out false information, especially of this kind of thing. But the more I flipped news channels, the more it hit me... One of the premiere voices of our time has been silenced. I was so hopeful about a comeback. I think I even wrote a journal entry about him coming back and releasing another album that would be bigger and better than any one ever before. Unfortunately, such a dream will never come true. I find that I am crushed and devastated because I enjoyed his music immensely and have spoken of him with the highest regards.
Normally, in a situation like this, I would write or say something about "cherish each day" or "tomorrow's not promised" or something along that line. Tonight, I just don't feel like it, because there are so many things about life and living that I don't understand. I don't understand death, and sickness, and pain of that sort. I don't know what it's like, even though I've been around my share of it. I think if I had a better grasp of how life works, I could be better assured that there is a light at the end of the tunnel, or that this too shall pass, or whatever.
But tonight, I just don't get it...