“He’s gone…really gone and is not coming back anymore”.
I am completely not myself last week and maybe this coming week too and God knows when will I be back to being normal. I am losing sleep because of Michael Jackson- watching his old videos, searching the net for news, pictures and anything about MJ. I am a zombie. “A grieving-and-always-lying-down-or-sitting-and-staring-up-in-heaven zombie”. I don’t want to talk to anybody unless there’s no choice and I have to pretend that I am in a perfect state and enjoying life as it goes. I wasn’t like this when Princess Diana and Francis Magalona died. And it’s impossible for me to mourn the death of Elvis Presley and John Lennon, two icons whose popularity existed before I was born although I can now sympathize with their fans as I am now also grieving the lost of someone I adore. All I want to do now is think, think, think, read, read and read and play, play and play with my cat and three dogs—the four innocents who I am sure will never hurt me and will always be true to me. I am in a box. I voluntarily put myself in a box and don’t have any plan of coming out anytime soon. I can’t say I am in a cage because nobody locked me up. I am in a box and I have a choice whether to close the lid or push back the lid. Right now, I choose to keep the lid closed. Others might say I am depressed or dealing with some problem. But keeping to myself right now is actually a very comfortable and safe zone to be in. Others might say it’s not healthy and that socializing is an important factor of life and I agree but “do these others really know what’s best and good for me?” Do I have to live my life seeking the approval of everybody? If I say I am content and happy in this box, will they understand and finally leave me alone? Or will they ridicule me? They may say I am different and living a weird life, but is being the same with everyone else the right thing to do? Says who? If I give, will others expect me to give continuously without fail and not keeping something for myself? If I live like a good person, not hurting anybody and following all the laws of the earth, will I still have to please everyone around me? Will they still call it “weird and strange” if somehow I did something that makes me happy but violates their expectation? Is there really a rule that says “you have to be the same and live like everyone or else we are going to send you to Mars?” Can I only gain acceptance by living a life similar to everyone?” Perhaps these questions were the same ones that Michael Jackson thought of when he’s still alive. I understand him. I totally and completely understand him. If only there’s a way I could contact him in Heaven, I would tell him “Michael, I understand you and thank you for being you.”
Michael Jackson’s death gave me a shock. A jolt. The sound of an alarm clock that has been shut off and thrown many times but now is ticking and ringing again awakes me with a start.
For many days, I refused to believe that he is dead. I can’t put my head round the idea that he’s gone. I don’t know him personally and he’s not my relative and he’s clueless up to his death about me too—he’s just a man who can do a smooth and faultless moonwalk that I can’t imitate, whose body is that of a skilled dancer, whose voice is both soft and sexy, whose smile is pure and mesmerizing, whose laugh is like that of a child, who talks shyly, walks gracefully and who changed his appearance from a "curly,flat and blak” to a “straight, pointed and white” whose clothes are as grand and different as he is and whose love life is as dramatic as any sad love story on TV—from falling in love to a daughter of an icon to a nurse of his dermatologist. A man whose songs I often hear on the radio, whose albums I buy with the money I saved from my piggy bank, whose MTVs I often look forward to watch up to this very day because it’s all entertaining and magnificent. He is the man who when performing on TV, I will remember to praise God for His marvelous creations such as this man whose talents are amazing, unique, entertaining and unbeatable. I am a fan and I realized it more after his death. I never joined any of his fan clubs and I didn’t go to his Manila concert because I was only 12 years old then but whenever there’s a negative write up about him such as child molestation, gay issues, and other more disgusting articles—I treated all those as nothing but “rubbish”. I didn’t believe. I ignored them. But not to be a hypocrite, I had once doubted his gender because there came a time when he looked more like a woman than a man. I even saw a picture of him wearing a woman’s clothes. Recently, I found out from news that he wore woman’s clothes to disguise himself so that he could go out in the public without being recognized. Regardless of that, I decided it didn’t matter whether MJ is gay or not. His personality and his contribution are much more important. Glad to know I made that decision because Michael Jackson after all is not gay. I would have been foolish if I believed all those sadistic write ups.
Michael Jackson is just a pop singer. But when he died, it’s like a part of me have died with him. The memories of my childhood is now suddenly blurred without him around. He's a friend who communicates with me thru my radio and discman with his music. He would give me a wave or send a flying kiss and sometimes he would even tell me "I love you" when he's on TV. When my close friend died in 2005, I was so depressed and I cried and still crying up to now. He died with anger and hurt in his heart because of people who can’t understand him and simply let him be who he wants to be. But his death although it was as shocking as Michael’s death, it didn’t push me to think deeply and make some reflections. Instead, I just blamed those who need to be blamed. Michael’s death on the other hand is a wake up call. Michael gave so much to people. He did so much. He gave his best. He did everything he could to please his insatiable fans. In return he received millions of applause, standing ovations and praises. But not all of the millions stayed during his dark days. There were those who ridiculed him. They were disgusted and they laughed at him. Some even called him ‘Wacko Jacko”. They see him as strange and weird. People even questioned his way of parenting. They said Michael is putting his kids in a cage and they don’t have any life outside. Well, perhaps just like I, Michael prefers to keep his kids in a box where they can create their own world full of happy, wonderful and beautiful things…away from the misery, horrors and monsters of the real world. Michael’s life was questioned. He was beaten with hurting words. He was insulted and stoned with false accusations. People took advantage of his weaknesses. Yet…he did not talk back. He stayed quiet and lived in his own world with his children—but that world was taken from them too. They took “Neverland”—Michael’s world. People are so cruel, selfish and prejudiced. I refused to believe that being selfish and judgmental is part of our human nature---but if it’s true then I rely on conscience. Although there are some who lives without a conscience anymore---such as those tabloid writers who are telling their readers that MJ killed himself intentionally because he wants to escape his debtors and that he is not really the biological father of his kids. They just won’t shut up! They are numb to see that the man who they are calling strange and weird is a much better man than them.
For days, I was in denial. When I saw Michael’s gold casket…all I asked was “Is that really him in there?” My hairs on every part of my body stood up as the choirs sing “No more crying, we are going to see the king.”—hopeful words. And at the time, I really do want to see the king. Perhaps it’s the same song the angels are singing in Heaven whenever God would appear to them. While watching, I couldn’t bring myself to believe that it’s his memorial service. I felt it was a concert and that the casket was just part of the presentation—that any minute Michael would get up from the casket and make his grand entrance just like he always does in his concerts. But two hours passed and he still didn’t get up. He stayed lying on the casket. He is gone. He is dead. He never fails to stun his audience…even up to his death.
It was said that his concert would be a way to revamp his career after his darkest days brought about by those who accused him of molesting a child. But God knew better. He knows Michael Jackson is the greatest performer who ever lived and he don’t need to prove that to anyone anymore. I couldn’t accept his death. I have so much questions. But then as I think about him, I realized that MJ's mission is already done. He is a wonderful gift given to us by God. But MJ suffered so much pain while he was here on earth…and to answer my question, I think God took MJ to save him from all the pain, sorrow and humiliation of this world and bring him to Heaven where he can finally be at peace, happy and dance forever. God would be in charge of punishing those who needed punishment for vengeance is His alone.
Realization also hit me, for I too am living to please others and often giving up those things which could really make me happy. I am always careful of other people’s feelings but they are never careful with my own feelings. I often give more than I can manage. And how many bad things did I hear....enough for me to suffer in silence and be discouraged. Michael’s death is a wake up call and I realize I am growing old but not fully enjoying my life because more often I think about others first before myself. And I tend to be affected by people who speak badly about me. But who else would faithfully love me besides God…I and I alone.
If before I am striving hard to have a successful and long life and live according to people’s expectations. Now, I will try to make my life a happy and contented one no matter how short it will be. Perhaps a short life is preferable. People are cruel. Life is hard. Death is easy.
I will laugh and run and see the world in the eyes of a kid.
I will love truthfully
I will continue hoping
I will not stop dreaming.
I will be different. (I love this saying “they laugh because I am different, but I laugh because they are the same”)
And I will be a good person and I will love the world…even if others will not.
I will be like a child just like MJ.
I love Michael Jackson and I will always be thankful that I was born on his era and I got to hear him sing and watch him dance. I am proud to say, I am luckier than the future generation…for I doubt there will be anyone out there who could surpass or even match Michael Jackson.
Michael Jackson is dead—I will soon (or not) accept that and believe.
I will surely miss him.
Perhaps on my next blog, I could write with a much happier tone.
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