It's 6:30 am on Monday, January 11, 2016.
My alarm rings… I press snooze.
At 6:32 my alarm rings again, I slide my finger across the screen bringing blissful silence.
I notice part of an instant message that read, "Very sad."
I click the message to continue.
"David Bowie has died Kim."
My breath is gone.
I blankly
type a response as I catch myself saying the words out loud.
"Nooooooooo. Oh, no, no…
New record just came out.
No, no, no…"
I type one last resonating word, "Heartbroken."
Numb legs slide out of bed and carry my body to the kitchen.
I turn on the coffee.
How can Bowie be dead?
I try to wrap my head around the news.
How did he die? This is a hoax, right?
The gurgle and hiss of the coffee pot sounds like a steam engine in my
head.
The house is dark save for the
light emitting from the screen of my cellular phone.
I open the web browser…
Top news: David Bowie dead at age 69.
Cancer.
It's no hoax. He's really gone.
Tears begin rolling down my checks.
I can't process it. David Bowie doesn't die of cancer. David Bowie lives to be like 100 years old,
if he doesn't live forever--which I was pretty sure he would!
But Bowie? No way!
Bowie goes out with a blaze of lighting and thunder as the earth shakes
and trembles! ...Right?
After all, he is Ziggy Stardust!
Super-human! Starman!
Certainly the entire Universe would have been aware the moment he drew
his last breath. It should have woken me from my sleep in a sudden panic!
But no, he died quietly January 10th, 2016.
No explosions. No bombast. Just gone.
I welcome the hot water of the shower.
Standing with hands pressed against the wall, holding me up as water
rushes down my face, washing free flowing tears down the drain.
It's all so cliché.
"Come
on Kimmie, you're being a bit melodramatic don't you think?" I imagine him gently chastising.
No, he was an artist, full of emotion and feeling.
Bowie would understand.
I step out of the shower, grab a towel, and mindlessly dry off.
I feel duped! He wasn't sick was he?
No one EVER said he was ill!
No one said he had cancer!
I throw the towel across the room, my movements now angrily punctuated.
I begin to dress as if it's the most distasteful chore--punching my
arms and legs into the openings of each garment with a furious thrust.
I yank on my boots and stomp to the bathroom where I rip a brush
through my wet, tangled hair.
Why was there no warning?
I'm crying again.
I still don't believe it.
Surely there would have been news before now that he was fighting such
a serious battle.
I get it though. If it were me I wouldn’t announce it.
Hell, I'm a private person. I totally understand keeping this secret.
So why do I feel like I've been tricked--robbed of some very important knowledge
that would have made this news a bit easier to digest?
Instead I'm left in complete and utter shock.
I toy with the idea of calling in sick.
What do I say? "I'm sorry I
can't make it in today. You see, David
Bowie has died…"
They'd think I'm nuts!
You must understand. For me,
this is as hard as losing Lennon, in some respects more so because I was so young when Lennon was killed. I didn't have the years in that I do with Bowie.
Yes, for me this is every bit as shocking as Lennon.
No warning! Sudden, violent in its
own right, and totally unjust.
My girlfriend messages my phone to signify she's in the drive.
I absently grab my things and hop into the car.
She hands me a coffee.
Thank God
for small miracles.
I tell her the news. She already knows.
We make small talk. A nice
distraction.
She promises to help me mourn as she drops me at work.
Is it ridiculous to grieve someone I've never met?
Bowie put his heart and soul into his art, so to say that I knew
nothing of him isn't entirely true. In that respect he spoke to me very intimately.
Plus, he was to be my husband you know.
I jokingly forewarned at the start of every serious relationship, "If
Bowie shows up, all bets are off."
Still I never had the chance to see him in person.
I always hoped he would tour again.
The new record would certainly have included a tour right?
I'd finally get to see him live?
Nope. I will never see Bowie in person. Never. Ever.
I'm crying again.
There is no consoling. No solace or attempts at pleasantries will make me feel better.
"The genius of Bowie lives on through his music."--
Of course it does!
"His music is his legacy."--
Of course it is!
But he's dead and I’m pissed!
All the amazing music and art he had yet to create...
There will be no more from him.
I'll celebrate his life later.
Right now I'm going to wallow.
I'm going to play some of his darkest stuff.
I'm going to cry
I'm going to lament.
I'm going to feel.
xoxo Siren Kimmie (HDIC Girls Rock Metal Detecting)
Check out Girls Rock Metal Detecting at all of these fine establishments:
Copyright © 2016 Siren Kimmie (Kim Price) Girls Rock Metal Detecting. All Rights Reserved.
