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When Doves Cry

I tried to put into words, the significance of just how much he had meant to me. I attempted to convey, in the best way that I could, exactly how devastating this news had been for me. I’d caught myself several times over the weekend, staring into space while humming an old familiar tune. For me, he was much more than a legendary icon to the masses. For me, he was my best friend. A friend who although I’d never met, had a way of always being there when I needed him. A friendship that unlike most, survived my awkward teens, my rebellious twenties, my headstrong thirties, and my now awakened forties. A constant companion, who provided me with an endless array of liner notes, to cajole my listless emotions past their boundaries.
I cried. Not the tears that fall after watching a well-acted Hallmark channel movie. No, these were ugly tears. Tears mixed with mucus and heavy heaving. Tears that stung my eyes as they fell, leaving the collar of my blouse soaked. Tears that cause strangers to reach for your shoulder and ask if you’re okay. I looked around me, confused. I’d had vivid dreams before. Dreams that had left me fighting and screaming in my sleep. This felt like a dream. Correction, this felt like a nightmare. My Facebook feed, my emails, text messages, the radio on the ride home, the television 24/7….I was awake and it was real. Prince was dead. Not much to say, because for the most part, I’m still processing this as a reality. An immortal essence that captivated and serenaded me since I was twelve years old, was gone. A musical virtuoso had departed our universe without so much as a forwarding address. I loved him then, I love him now. I’ll love Prince forever.

RIP – Rest In Purple


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