This week, we lost two legends, two icons, two men who always seemed bigger and more fantastic than they really were, two men who we somehow unconsciously thought were immortal.
I have seen so many "RIP, Jareth!" and "RIP, Snape!" posts on Facebook. I've also seen plenty of people getting scolded for saying those things. I've seen plenty of articles reminding us "David Bowie was more than just Jareth, you know" and countdown/top-10 lists of Alan Rickman's best roles. I've been told "you didn't know them!" more than once. (I'm well aware that I never got to meet Alan Rickman. Didn't need the reminder, thanks.) And I've seen tribute after tribute on every movie and music blog in human existence, all of them hoping to ease the ache or celebrate the lives of these two wonderful men, just a little, just for a minute.
I don't know what I can say about losing an idol that I didn't say in my other post. I don't know what I would say to Bowie or Rickman's families, were they here in front of me. It's funny what comes to the front of my mind when things like this happen. When I first heard about David Bowie, all I could think was "But he just released a music video, he CAN'T be dead!" And today Alan Rickman died, and I called my boyfriend in a blind panic and said, "I never got to thank him. I never got to tell him that he made Snape real to me. I never got to cast him, or even just shake his hand. I never got to tell him what his work mean to me. I never will." Isn't that funny? Scores of people more talented and worthy than I had the opportunity to tell Rickman what a fantastic actor he was, tell him how very loved and how very deserving he was, and here I am worrying that he missed out on the appreciation and gratitude of one lonely, quirky movie-addicted girl from Michigan.
It's not fair that they died so relatively young. It's not fair that so many more will die of the same disease they did. It's not fair that a man like Alan Rickman, who would have made such a good father and whose children would have brought something to the world, never procreated--while families like the Duggars, who have never contributed to the human race and never will, breed literally by the dozens. It's not fair that their families have to live without them. It's not fair that there are so many movies out there that could have been made and so many songs that could have been written, that will never come to be now. It's not fair, and there's nothing to be done about it.
But here's what I like to think...
I like to think that when Alan Rickman reached heaven today, he came expecting pearly gates and men with long white beards and was instead greeted by David Bowie, in full Labyrinth regalia, holding a garment bag and smiling. When the understandably confused Rickman asked "What are you doing here dressed like that? What's going on?" Bowie would've just smiled and handed him the bag. Inside, there's his Snape costume, and Rickman would ask him, "What do you want me to do with this?"
To which I like to imagine David Bowie replying, with a smile, "Well, you see, there are kids up here already who loved the characters we brought to life. Kids that were hurt by abusive families and left the world feeling unloved. Kids who died of the same disease we did. Put that on and come with me, because I think we ought to go make those kids very happy, don't you?"
It's a silly daydream, I know. It's the kind of sappy, Hallmark thing that we tell ourselves when those we admired are gone, so that we can feel better about their passing. It's very cinematic and very melodramatic. Even if you take for granted the idea that heaven is real (which I do, but I know there are plenty out there who don't) it's still unlikely, and still pretty cheesy...but I still like to imagine it going down just like that.
Goodbye, David Bowie. Goodbye, Alan Rickman. You probably already knew this...but through the fantastic things you created, you will live on forever.
Always.
No comments:
Post a Comment