Intermezzo: When They Go

I remember what I did when I heard that John Lennon was shot dead. I was jumping up and down in my sister’s bed. Way too old to do such a thing

With Freddie Mercury I couldn’t turn off the telly because MTV showed videos by Queen an entire weekend. In remembrance and with respect.

I stood in the kitchen doing the dishes when I heard that Kurt Cobain had shot himself. I sat down on my sofa with a plate in my hand, my cat jumped up next to me on the sofa and watched the news with me. I remember that I thought he was a bastard. That he should have stayed around, proven everybody wrong. But perhaps he didn’t feel he had anything to prove.

Now it’s painful to say Howdy. Or enact Ennis and Jack scenarios. Uni texted me in the middle of the night. I was awake, suffering from a mild case of insomnia. Have you heard? What, can’t be true.

So much talent gone in a wink. Could somebody turn back the clocks? Or make use of the rewind button so we can erase the parts that don’t make sense – or skip the segments that brought us mourning, sadness and bewilderment.