It still seems extraordinary to me that I can
grieve so for someone I never really met. Of course, it touches an existing
nerve of grief that never goes away, but oh, it’s George; the centrepiece of my
conversation from the time I was 15 until I was much, much older; the cornerstone
of my music collection; top of my imaginary future husband list and owner of
the voice my ears are trained to hear whatever may be happening.
When I was much younger, I was devastated to learn how
George Sanders died (before my brother shocked that out of me with Hollywood
Babylon). How could this marvellous man take his own life? How could he think
that life was boring and just leave? I now know how much more there was to his
death but then, I thought (naively, irrationally) if only I’d been there I
could have saved him. That pretty much sums me up.
As much as it’s George Michael’s musical talent that drew me
to him, it was also his problems and the frailty he let us see (no surprise my
obsession began with Freedom ’90). I would defend him to the ends of the earth.
In all my crazy, youthful fan days and my grown up more peaceful fan days, I’ve
only ever had one dream with George in it. Let me tell you about it, because
yes, someone else’s dreams are always riveting. It was before a concert, he was
alone and worried and I came up to him and gave him a hug. One of those dream
moments that was so vivid that long after I was awake, I really felt I hugged
him.
His music has sustained me when I wasn’t even aware of it and
knowing he was in the world gave me some sort of strange comfort. I will always
miss him.
I wish Fadi Fawaz would stop tweeting. He has triggered this extra mournfulness in me (or his Twitter account has). Whatever he is
feeling or knows, don’t tell us all on Twitter. It should be private. Let us
mad fans grieve with George’s musical legacy and respect the family and friends
who are suffering right now.
