Mourning those I never met

Originally published January 24, 2016

Mourning those I never met

This January seems crueler than most, and I am not referencing the bitter cold temperatures. Instead, I mourn the loss of three artists whose work inspires, entertains and consoles me.

David Bowie died Jan. 10 at the age of 69 after battling cancer. His music influenced so many in a career that included 26 studio albums and 22 films.

Want to witness a glimmer of his talent? Search online for a video sharing Bowie and Freddie Mercury’s performance of “Under Pressure” stripped down to just their vocal tracks. The power of their voices absolutely mesmerizes me, especially when so many performers now rely on software that perfects and polishes their work.

Bowie wrote his own elegy in his final album, Blackstar, released just days before he died. His song, “Lazarus,” opens with “Look up here, I’m in heaven” and closes with “Oh, I’ll be free. Ain’t that just like me.”

In another song from that album, “I Can’t Give Everything Away,” Bowie sings,

“Seeing more and feeling less

Saying no but meaning yes

This is all I ever meant

That’s the message that I sent.”

Another blow came when stage actor, film star and director Alan Rickman died on Jan. 14, also at the age of 69 and after treatment for cancer.

Rickman, who met his wife, Rima, at 19, first pursued a career in graphic arts before following his passion for acting in his 20s. He performed on stage to hone his craft, joining the Royal Shakespeare Company at the age of 32. Rickman, while respected as a stage thespian, did not break into Hollywood until he was in his 40s, playing villain Hans Gruber in the movie DieHard, and offering the first of so many memorable screen deaths. He perfectly embodied the role of Professor Severus Snape in the Harry Potter series and appeared in more than 60 roles on television or film.

British scientists declared his rich and deep voice as “perfect” in 2008, with standards that measured tone, speed, frequency, intonation, words per minute and pauses. He played the archangel Metatron, who serves as the voice of God, rather brilliant casting in the movie “Dogma” by Kevin Smith.

In a fantastic article in The Washington Post, Michael Cavna wrote that Bowie and Rickman shared a “profoundly simple gift” – their generosity. Not just their money, but also the far more valuable commodity of their talent and time by offering those gifts to other performers and artists.

Glenn Frey, a founding member of the 1970s rock band, the Eagles, died at the age of 67 on Jan. 18 due to complications from rheumatoid arthritis and other ailments. In an interview, Frey told Piers Morgan that he considered “One of These Nights” to be his defining song. The song speaks to those trying to find,

“Someone to be kind to

In between the dark and the light.”

A singer, songwriter, guitarist and actor, Frey also played the piano. Between his solo career and songs with the Eagles, Frey released 24 Top 40 singles in his career.

While it may seem weird to mourn the death of celebrities — people I never met — sociologists can explain this grief.

Feeling a sense of loss and sadness for well-known figures is part of a parasocial relationship, a term coined in the 1950s to describe the feelings of closeness with someone you’ve never met.

We identify with public figures, and though the relationship is one-sided, that is part of the appeal — it offers us acceptance without the complications of real world interactions.

When we mourn a personal loss, funerals help us process our grief and express our emotions. But when a celebrity dies, attending the funeral is not an option, unless it is televised or recorded and shared. I woke up early to watch the funeral of Princess Diana, and watching the memorial service for Jim Henson made me smile and cry.

Social media allows fans to mourn together. Dean Aarón Podestá (@JeSuisDean) tweeted this on Jan. 10. “If you’re ever sad, just remember the world is 4.543 billion years old and you somehow managed to exist at the same time as David Bowie.”

People who knew Bowie, Rickman and Frey shared stories of them, and offered condolences to those who knew and loved them.

These deaths also remind us of our own losses. When Jimmy Stewart passed away, my tears were not just for him, but a release valve for the loss of my paternal grandfather.

While I strive to leave my biases out of my news writing, I confess that I selected the news stories published in the Daily Citizen announcing the loss of these three artists. Consider it one of the ways I paid homage to them for sharing their talents with the world, and one of the ways I coped with losing them.

Those who create share a bit of their souls in their work. And they breathe a bit of life into those creations and set them free for others to experience. Their work helps connect us – the emotions invoked by music, poetry, performances and other forms of art remind us of our own feelings of love, heartache, anger, loneliness, joy, sadness and more.

Pay homage to them by listening to their music or watching their movies. What they created carries on, offering humans something close to achieving immortality.

Original column