Michael Jackson: You were just another part of me

I text my girlfriend frantically from Costco. Michael Jackson has died, I type. Twitter still has not confirmed it, but somehow I know deep inside, it is true. Dead at 50 years old, only 4 years older than me. My girlfriend calls me in my car and we sing "I'll Be There" off key in stereo on my car's built in bluetooth. Yet, somehow, even thought by then, I know it's true but has it really hit me yet? I barely absorbed Farrah Fawcett's death and now another icon from my generation gone - in the same day!

The next morning I wake at 4:30. Can't sleep and the first thing in my head is "Michael Jackson has died". As I scour all my usual internet news sites, the story of Michael's death is in headlines everywhere. And so it is as I pull up my usual Huffington Post read, that I am drawn into Michael's videos on You Tube. And that is when the death of Michael Jackson hit me like a hurricane storming up the Gulf of Mexico. Tears streamed down my face as I watched one video after another. At some point, I begin to realize, am I really crying over Michael's death? Or am I shedding tears over the memories of my life that I haven't much thought about, but are being replayed in one song after another?

The year was 1983 and I am 20 years old and my first same-sex relationship is in full swing. It is time to break more ground and go to my first gay bar. Kellie, my first love, decides that her college friend Ed will come visit from Philly and take us there. Ed, as I soon find out is an African American guy who loves and emulates Michael Jackson. A real wannabe. Off we nervously go to a happening men's disco bar and Ed, Kellie and I dance all night. It is when "Don't Stop till you Get Enough" comes on, that Ed takes ownership of that dancefloor. Now, I have always been a Michael Jackson fan, however that one particular night with Kellie, Ed, and my first gay bar completely became a part of me that I will never forget. I felt alive, free and happier with who I was more than any time leading up to that night.

At least that is how it was for a number of years. But time passes, lovers change, music styles change, friends change and we grow up. Ed, from South Philly died of AIDS about 2 years after the gay bar night. We took a road trip to South Philly for his funeral and sang Michael Jackson the whole way there and back. The press began calling Michael Whacko Jacko for various reasons we all know of. I just took in the information and a part deep in my heart believed he really was the kind and gentle soul he appeared to be. I really didn't have much to say about Michael Jackson from that period forward. I moved on in my life, came out to friends and eventually family. I became more and more comfortable with who I am and ever proud of my life.

The morning after Michael's death, I listened to video after video on You Tube until I was almost late for work. My iphone has You Tube so I was able to sneak a few in during the day as well. It was like I couldn't get enough of his songs and I scanned every XM station in my car to find his music. I downloaded all my favorites on itunes and played over and over "Don't Stop till you get Enough".

It is now 4 days after his death. I am still playing my MJ Mix on the ipod. For some reason, I don't seem to tire of my favorites. I hear on the news that this my generation's version of Elvis dying. Maybe they are right. I don't know. What I do realize is that Michael Jackson left an indelible mark on my life growing up in the 1980's. He was there with me in my bedroom when I lived in my parent's home. He was there with me during break-ups, make-ups and my early confusion as I tried to accept my sexuality. He was even there with me, practically live, when I hit the dance floor at my first gay bar. I realize now, I miss him most because I feel he was a part of me and my journey through all of the toughest, yet formative times of my life. Rest in peace, Michael Jackson.