Michael Jackson has been laid to rest. The world is divided in different camps. Admirers, detractors, and the apathetic. I had planted myself in the latter camp. I have no Michael Jackson songs on my computer. I never saw him in concert. I didn’t follow his tribulations with interest. He went his way and I went mine. My apathy was sacrosanct or so I thought until going to a restaurant in Uthaitanni.
Michael Jackson had been resurrected on a wide-screen TV. A concert before a stadium filled with frenzied fans. He sang their favorites on a stage costing millions of dollars. They loved him and I felt a sadness wrapped around my spine. Tears formed behind my sunglasses. My daughter asked what was wrong.
“A friend is gone.” I said in English.
“Michael Jackson.” She pointed at the TV.
“Yes.”
“But he’s still on the TV.” At six Angie understood that sometimes you never can say good-bye to those we have forgotten to love.
In the end it’s all about the music, although it’s doubtful that Gary Glitter will receive such an outpouring of grief.