2016 took Prince, Elie Wiesel, and George Michael. All significant people to my life for
different reasons.
2016 also took my mom. Mom died seven months ago tomorrow from cancer. She had beaten it once, but this time, it was just too much for her.
I was just 8 years old when I witnessed my mother sit down in her brown recliner and cry, her tears those of grief and shock. Elvis Presley had died. I didn’t understand–why was she crying? She didn’t know him, she had never met him.
Two days ago, I remembered that moment, and I understood her tears. George Michael–my George Michael–died. So young. The grief I feel is genuine–probably also from shock–and simply devastating. I didn’t know him, I had never met him. But I grew up with him, and he was just six years older than I.
Mom used to take me cruising in her little brown Mazda RX 7 and the only music we’d blare was Wham!’s “Edge of Heaven” album. I was fifteen, and she was in her mid-thirties, but she was just as big a fan as I was. I know she has welcomed GM to the other side with her smiles, while here, I dry my tears.
GM and his music, whether with Wham! or on his own, have provided what I would well consider the soundtrack of my life–at least from the mid-80’s until now. And even though I’m not supposed to tell anyone this secret, finding out that Jackson loved GM made me realize he was my one–THE one. And I’m not kidding.
So this week, as I work on THE BOOK (stay tuned for updates), you can well imagine what inspirational music I am getting lost in…in fact, if GM is trending on iTunes, it’s probably my fault.
Aimee Ross 