Even now, as I write this, tears threaten to spill over, tears that I have not shed since I found out about his passing. I still don't believe it. Perhaps it is easier because I never knew the man. His physical presence wasn't a part of my life. But, still I feel the loss and I struggle because a part of me can't really imagine a world without Michael.
I was disappointed in him at times. Debbie Rowe, really? The children who look like the post surgery Michael, but bear little to no resemblance to the boy Michael, the Thriller Michael, The Wiz Michael, our beloved Michael. The fact that he made poor choices about the people he surrounded himself with and the inappropriate activities with young children left me sorely disappointed as well. Let me say for the record that I do not believe that he ever molested any child. I do think that a grown man sleeping in the bed with a child who is not even related to him is highly inappropriate, but certainly not a crime.
When I was a child, I had the opportunity to meet Michael. I remember his bright, bright socks. Shiny and sparkly. And this very tall man folded himself down to look right in my face and shake my hand. I promise you, in that moment, with all the flashing lights, I felt like I was the only person in the room. I felt like he had eyes only for me. I felt like what I had to say was important to him. I believe in my heart that my child senses would have picked up on something not right about him if it was there, however, I recognize that that is also what I want to believe.
When he first passed, I couldn't even really be with the whole thing. I didn't watch the funeral, I didn't watch CNN, I just avoided it. But now, I am starting to allow myself to feel the loss of Michael Jackson. He was beloved. He will be missed.
Happy Birthday Michael. Happy, happy birthday.