Michael Jackson`s death hit me late, as expected. Being so far removed from the US, particularly the gatherings in New York City, I found myself in a state of diluted belief. I knew he was gone, but I didn`t feel it...until today.

I wore all black in rememberence of him and decided to start my mornig watching what I could of the Staples Center Memorial on msnbc.com. That is when it hit. To see the casket, to see his family, friends, and fans. I believe that is how he would have wanted it.

It is undeniable that many have joined, and rode the MJ bandwagon over the last week. I can`t blame you. I truly can`t. He was simply the greatest entertainer that ever lived. Period.

I wanted to take a moment to finally filter out the blog explaining why I mourn.

For those closest to either me, or my writing, they may have known through the years that my father and I have not always had the best of relationships. He would also admit that in my previous years that along with love I harbored a huge amount of resentment and anger towards him. Something only I had the ability to let go and forgive. Something I made the choice to about a year ago. I am 25. For nearly 24 years I fought to hold onto every negative aspect of him that I could. Part of growing up is letting go. Luckily, I can say that I did and, though there are still mountains to be moved, we are closer now that possibly ever before.

With that, I never told him this, but there are two entertainers that I hear that remind me of my father. They bring back positive childhood memories that I had of being `daddy`s little girl` if even for a breif moment. Those two entertainers are Michael Jackson and Stevie Wonder. They always have been.

As an adolescent , I note finding so much joy in their music and it ALWAYS making me think of my father and smile. Something that for years, the actual man himself could not do. For these reasons I mourn. One of the men that maybe inadvertently helped me rebuild a relationship with my father, mentally if no way else, is now gone. Thank you Michael. Thank you for the memories that are attached to your music.
Thank you for being one of the biggest installations in my fathers massive vinyl collection. Thank you for terrifying me with Thriller, at my Aunt Sharon`s old apartment. Thank you for your help. Thank you for being the best.

As time would have it, this morning I only had a limited time to watch the beginning of the ceremony before I headed out to work. I only had enough time to get through the beginning, and conclude at the end of Stevie`s performance. I found it fitting.


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