CLEVELAND - I had written an article on June 24 about the death of Ed McMahon, who'd died the previous day at age 86. A day later on Thursday, June 25, there was news of another pending celebrity death.
Farrah Fawcett.
It seemed inevitable that Fawcett was near death, she had been seriously ill for quite some time. But when I watched "The View" that morning, I was a bit saddened to hear Barbara Walters announce that the iconic Charlie's Angels alumni would be dying any minute now. This was early in the 11AM EST hour, and just before 12:30PM EST, news came down that Fawcett had indeed died. It was sobering to hear the finality and was a major blow to her many admirers, including myself. I began thinking of an article idea celebrating her legacy that I would write and publish at
www.deanteyoung.com the following day. I was never a Farrah follower or even an actual fan. However, I was aware of and understood her celebrity as well as her contribution to pop culture. Plus, I felt that she was a knockout and that's always a good thing.
Anyways, I knew that my June 25 article was going to be about the Cleveland Cavaliers, who came to contract terms with ancient-but-still-useful center Shaquille O'Neal, and word had come down the previous evening. They had scheduled a press conference for that afternoon to formally announce the move, but I had started writing my article before that.
Sometime around 2:30PM EST, a power outage suddenly knocked out the electricity on my street and of course, in my home. I continued trying to get my thoughts together to finish the article on Shaq, but I had to get ready to do a little shopping with my girl for my daughter's 6th birthday party, which was two weeks away. Her parties are never "just" parties. They are the de facto bash of the summer for my family, friends and colleagues. The power stayed out for a little over an hour, but came back on before we left. On the drive to Sam's Club, I mentioned Farrah's death and tried to convey her impact on culture to my girl, since she amazingly didn't know who Farrah was.
Once we got to Sam's Club, we scouted different items that could potentially be put on the party menu. A few we bought. Once we went through the checkout line, my daughter asked if we could go over to the snack counter and get some food there. It has become something of a tradition to get a Sam's Club hotdog when we go there. We got food and sat down to eat. Shortly before we finished, I received a phone call from a female friend of mine. Normally, I would've just ignored the call in that situation, but for whatever reason, I answered.
It was the worst phone call ever.
Essentially what she said to me was "I just wanted to call you and tell you I'm sorry about Michael Jackson." Of course, I had no idea what the heck she was talking about, so I sought out an explanation. "What 'chu mean," I asked. She was surprised that I hadn't heard the news.
"They said on the news that Michael Jackson was rushed to the hospital in cardiac arrest and he might not make it," she said.
My immediate thought was "yeah right, whatever." But there was also an instant nervousness and uneasiness inside me at that moment. Somehow, I rushed her off the phone because I had to somehow get verification on this from a more reputable source. It's worth mentioning that it was this same friend that informed me of rap legend Tupac Shakur's death in 1996. In other words, she's the bearer of bad news.
I hung up the phone with a sheepish and uneasy smirk on my face and mumbled something to my girl who was, of course sitting with me and my daughter at the food court. The weird smirk and half smile that I had on my face was an example of me not really knowing how to act or what to think. I said to my girl that my friend just told me that Michael Jackson was rushed to the hospital and he might not make it. Since I didn't have a sophisticated, Internet-style phone, I couldn't find out any info on it so I knew I had to get home.
We had a couple more stops to make before going home, but my girl knew me all too well. She knew that my participation in any and all plans were put on hold until I could find out what was going on with Michael. I refused to actually call anyone to find out, I would have felt too vulnerable. Instead, as my legs shook and wobbled while walking out of the store and to the car, I felt numb, terrified and very detached. We got in the car and headed home.
Once we were on the freeway, my phone rang again and it was my friend that broke the awful (rumor) news to me. She wanted to know why I hung up on her and I immediately rushed her off the phone again. I did not want to talk to anyone, until I could find out what was going on with Michael.
The drive home was very short in distance, but in my mind at that time, it felt like it took forever. Once we got off the freeway, there was an unusual amount of traffic semi backed up on the road leading to my house. I was growing impatient and more nervous every moment. I didn't want the car radio to be on because I didn't want to hear anything awful on this topic. My best friend texted me as we were in the scrum of traffic. His message read, "they just said Michael Jackson just died." I nearly choked on my own breath, but I still refused to believe something so...cruel.
Thank God I wasn't driving.
We finally pulled into the driveway of our house and before the car came to a stop, I had my door open and my leg about ready to step out and run into the house. There was food and other items in the trunk that we'd just bought, but I was in no shape to stop and get any of it out. I felt like I was about to collapse, but somehow I managed to limp up the steps to the door. My girl knew not to say much to me...I soon got another text, this one from my mother saying, "He's going to be okay. Just pray."
Already was.
I got into the house and immediately marched to the living room. I turned on the television, terrified at what I might see or hear once it came on. I flipped to CNN where Wolf Blitzer was talking about Michael being rushed to the hospital. Indeed, the caption across the bottom of the screen read, "MICHAEL JACKSON HOSPITALIZED." Amazingly, I felt a little relief because my best friend told me that he'd died. I wasn't going to accept that at all. I got on my computer and browsed every website I could think of...and they all had conflicting reports. TMZ was reporting that MJ died, while many others simply said he had been taken to the Ronald Reagan UCLA Medical Center after suffering cardiac arrest in his rented mansion.
By now, my girl unloaded the trunk, grabbed my daughter and left to finish up the errands. She messaged me several minutes after leaving to inform me that traffic was at a standstill. She also wanted to know what else I'd heard about Michael. Minutes later, she messaged me with this strangely hopeful text; "the radio says coma." I was relentlessly perusing the Internet and flipping through TV channels to compare stories and hopefully hear someone say that Michael was okay. I crossed all of my fingers.
I paced.
I sat.
I stood.
Butterflies were in my stomach by the truckload. I was shaking and breathing very erratically. I got another text from my best friend simply saying, "I'm sorry. I know you're hurting." I was so worried and scared that I didn't know what to do. I was stunned and baffled. I couldn't understand how we went from the Farrah tragedy to this in just a few hours. Soon, word came down from the L.A. Times that Michael had officially died. CNN was hesitant to report that since they didn't have any way of confirming it. They were my saving grace. Other news channels reported it though with the horrible awful caption "Michael Jackson 1958-2009."
That was unacceptable.
My mom had continued to text me with words of encouragement, insisting that he was going to be okay. Countless people called me, texted me, e-mailed me. Understand something, ever since I was 5 years old, any and everyone who has ever met me has know without a doubt that I was and always have been a gigantic Michael Jackson fanatic. In fact, that fanaticism actually made the man a member of my family. I cared about him and loved him just as one would a relative. And that's even an understatement. Some people even told me that anytime they think of Michael, it reminds them of me.
Too high an honor.
Confirmation finally came down that he had in fact died. I was crushed. Destroyed. I cried. I began to despise and detest the world. I wanted revenge. I didn't want to continue on. My heart began racing and I felt as though I was going to be sick. I knew myself well enough to know that I was headed towards major internal harm...not to mention psychological. I knew that if I didn't get some kind of a grip that I would be in the hospital myself. I was sooo hurt. Motionless...then fidgety. Texts and calls kept pouring in and I ignored every one of them. I was incapable of speaking to anyone.
Massive tributes began immediately on television, online and radio for Michael. But I didn't care. It was even reported that the sudden and stunning nature of the story caused much of the Internet to "collapse" for a short time. People all over the world were beyond grief-stricken and millions wept uncontrollably in the streets. Some even committed suicide.
Once my girl and daughter returned home, my daughter came to check on me as gingerly as she could. She tiptoed into the living room where I sat, deflated and without expression. She went back into the kitchen and whispered to her mother that I was "okay."
I was not.
She asked if I needed anything. She asked if I was going to be okay. Messages continued coming in. I asked her for a couple of dollars so I could go to the store. She tried to give me a ten dollar bill, which annoyed me fiercely. I almost took it and tore it into a trillion pieces!
Hate was strong.
I went to the store, first shutting off my car radio. I grabbed a couple beers and came back. A girl whom I had been friends with for 14 years tried to talk to me, but I kept walking to my porch and ignored her. I felt like I would literally choke her if I spoke.
For the next several hours, I sat alone in front of the television watching the terrible and depressing images on the screen. Life was sure to be different for me forever. I cried and reflected on my lost loved one.
Michael, I miss you so much.
