Whitney Houston

In my 30 years on this planet, the only true constant that I have come to know is loss. It happens on many different levels, depending on who and how we lose, and some of the most profound feelings of loss can come from unexpected places. We don't have to directly "know" someone or be connected to the loss itself to feel it in overwhelming, intense ways. The untimely deaths of Princess Diana, Michael Jackson, Heath Ledger, and Phil Hartman, coupled with epic events of tragedy and sadness like September 11th, The Station nightclub fire and the loss of the Columbia Space Shuttle all dug into my heart in a unique and confusing way.

This past week, the world lost Whitney Houston, R&B singing phenom. I remember being an awkward young girl in junior high school with a crush on a boy in my grade, and how Whitney's songs made me cry even then. I once called a local radio station and requested "I Will Always Love You" for said crush. I watched my crush dance with someone else to Whitney's songs. This made them very deep but meaningful thorns in my heart. I always imagined that if I was lucky enough to ever meet her, I would thank her for the deep catharsis she provided me in my pre-teen years...

I keep hearing Whitney sing, on the TV, on the radio, as peoples ringtones. I read on Reuters that sales of her albums have soared in the days since her death. I've enjoyed hearing some of the amazing songs that best showcase her talent again, like her Super Bowl performance of The National Anthem. I watch with my mouth agape at the endless talent, and end with the realization that all of that talent is gone.

I had hopes for Whitney, just as I did for Amy Winehouse. I knew in my heart that she would either get her life back together, make outstanding music again, and change the world a second time around, or that she would die an early death, likely caused primarily or secondarily to her use of drugs. I am saddened that my hope did not materialize.

Life is just so fleeting, so unpredictable. We are all riding this giant wheel waiting for our turn to fall off, and it doesn't matter how rich or talented or healthy you are- it can happen to any of us. It doesn't matter how many times you have already beaten the odds. All it is is a stamped guarantee that no matter what, your day is coming.

It makes me angry to feel the anxiety of trying to wrap my head around the extent of the tragedy that we dodge every day. Specifically referring to Whitney, I am angry that she was not able to reach her full potential again, and that the fault likely lies in her disease of addiction. The thing is, I can't be angry at her for being an addict, doing what addicts do. Addicts use, and statistically, very few are able to maintain a drug free life after initially getting sober. It doesn't matter how smart a person is or how much will power they have- addiction is the ultimate parasite. Once it has latched onto its host, it takes a miracle to remove it. I think that for Whitney Houston, that parasite just never fully let go of her.

I've cried a lot of tears since my mom opened my apartment door to tell me that Whitney Houston had died. Mentally, I was immediately in disbelief. I said "no!", I accused her of screwing with me, raising my voice as I asked if she was serious. From then on, it has been unavoidable. I hear her name when I am walking on campus or at Wal-Mart, I see her face on every major weekly and monthly magazine, I hear her voice in the background as news anchors discuss the loss and it's impact. I've watched her best performances and sat for 4 hours while on vacation to watch her funeral... Some might find it weird to react so strongly to the death of a singer or actor or any public figure, and I can promise you that the reaction is not expected, but as I said, grief can come from anywhere.