I’m not going to use a picture. I’m not going to use a song. I’m not going to use a name. It’s not even necessary. Today is just a purely sad day for anyone that loves music, or people, or souls, or love, or anything.
I remember being introduced to his music by my next door neighbor. I didn’t like it at first. Then, it took hold of me. I grew to love it. It wasn’t long ago I watched his Super Bowl performance. He played in the rain, wired up. The show must go on they say, and he was there for the big moment. Magic exploded from his finger tips. Gospel graced his lips. Rhythm, blues, crazy, melodic, mercy, grace, trash talk, silent mist; he just had a way about him: Iconic.
He’s not someone to be worshiped, though he was. He’s not someone to be bowed down to, though he was. He is an astounding figure though, with astounding gifts. There was nary a instrument he couldn’t play. Motivated, yes. Mesmerizing, yes. Weird, many think so. At the end of the day though, he’s just an amazingly complex system, wired to show love to others in his own special way.
We are not all created equal. We are all created equal in the eyes of God. We may not all see the same opportunities, but we all have the same opportunity to be grateful and to show our gratitude. Sometimes, it’s OK to be misunderstood. He must have understood this in what I can only imagine was a struggle to find identity, or perhaps he was shining a light on the times when he created his sign.
He made an impact. He crossed boundaries. He effected lives with his actions. He will be missed, but his love and light will continue to shine brightly. Why does it take death to make us grateful for those we hold most dear? Goodbye warrior, you inspire me.