The prior evening I learned about Whitney Houston passing away. I sit here tonight watching Jennifer Hudson singing one of Whitney's classics, feeling chills through my spine as I listened to the song, "I Will Always Love You."
Over the last 24 hours since hearing about the death of Whitney Houston, I'm experiencing a series of mixed feelings. Traditionally, anything said immediately after the death of an individual, especially one honored and cherished, usually is glowing and powerfully positive.
As I worked out this morning in the bitter cold of winter, I noticed how pissed off I was at the whole situation. I've worked with and personally known family, friends, and read stories of the fast and famous dying after a life filled with tragedy and pain. To manage the pain, these same individuals used alcohol and drugs. The terrible end of many of these loved ones included death.
During my bike ride, I thought about Whitney's eighteen year old daughter, Bobbi Christina Brown. I do not know Whitney, but anyone who followed her in the media knew about the bouts with alcohol and drug addiction and fights with past love, Bobby Brown.
What was Bobbi Christina's experience with her parents? Did she foresee her mother dying? Maybe she did or maybe not.
My guess is that Bobbi Christina saw what none of us ever would want to experience first hand or hear about second hand. Anyone who grew up with an addict can tell you of the hell that comes with life in a home with addicts. Regardless of what industry, including the notoriously tolerant and enabling music business, the second hand effects of living and loving an addict can be bewilderingly troubling and full of pain.
I've worked with addicts and known addicts throughout my life. Growing up, I had an absent father, who lived the cliche role, because he was married to his addiction. When he was around as a child, I really adored my time with him. The moments between dad visits, which stretched anywhere from months to years at times, were consumed with me musing on my father's whereabouts. I wondered when he might show up next or whether he would show for a scheduled visit or not. Usually, I expected him not to show.
Unfortunately, too many dreams and worries focused on finding my father dead in a street, lost in some dark place that my imagination would conjure up. So, as I rode my bike through a park, I wondered what nightmares Bobbi Christina ever had about either one of her parents.
Today was an incredibly sad day for those close to Whitney Houston. However, I am a bit more concerned about the ones she left behind.
So, today's mission to stay on track with sweets seems to pale in comparison to the loss of an icon like Whitney Houston. In truth, her death has no impact on my moment to moment experience. I do not have one Whitney Houston album and generally thought many of her songs were watered down to appeal to popular culture. However, my fondest memory of Whitney's comes from the 1991 Super Bowl XXV singing of the National Anthem. It still gives me chills!
So, when I consider tomorrow's plan to get up, go for a walk or run, I am a bit more motivated than I was today. I'm not angry with Whitney, more saddened for her family and friends who've endured through the years, hoping and praying that this day would not come.
It's one thing to worry and fear that death's call will beckon a loved one home. It's another thing to watch as a loved one falls away even if it is fully expected. The reality and fantasy do not seem to compare. If I continue to experience any anger, it clouds my feeling of disappointment with seeing her lost for so long and ending so predictably sad.
I'll be rising tomorrow morning trying to make this health watch 2012 a reality. I'll muscle through the cold weather to run/walk for the betterment of my physical and mental health. In the back of my mind, I'll be thinking about Whitney Houston, Michael Jackson, Rick James, and others fallen music heroes who've past on. Then, I'll mediate on loved ones lost to drugs and alcohol addiction. When I finish my run, I want to leave those sad feelings on park trail and return home rejuvenated.
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