This week I have been listening to Prince on replay.
You'd have to be under a rock and in hiding to not have heard of his passing.
It was the most heartbreaking news. I couldn't believe it. None of my friends could. Facebook blew up and the ache was instant.
Me. A minute (if that) after I heard that he might be gone.
The entertainment world has taken many hits in 2016. Many lives ended way too soon. Many ended as they neared their later years. Many people who represented so much of our youth. Prince among them. Taken way too soon.
Prince's passing leaves us raw and thinking of Michael and Whitney and how we felt when we heard they were gone. Prince's passing leaves us thinking of the way we used to sing his songs into our old tape recorders with our best friends and always get the words wrong. His passing makes us think of performers like Madonna and Cyndi Lauper and hope they're around for a long time to come.
Prince's passing stirs up emotions and grief. Grief for the loss of someone I never knew - someone I never even came to be in the same room with - and someone I and many others adored just the same.
But the timing isn't lost on me.
This week is Passover. And in remembering celebrations of Passover over the years my heart aches this week as I miss my father.
Prince's passing is helping me process the emotions of losing someone too soon.
Does that even make any sense? Maybe. Maybe not. But it's reminding me that grief has no timeline.
This music is making me cry. I'm tearing up as I listen to When Doves Cry. I'm singing Purple Rain over and over again. And again. To the point that my daughter has asked me why I'm singing THAT again. And again.
And the tears, I know I'm sad about Prince. I do.
But I know that the lump in my throat is because I miss my father so effing much. And he should be here. He should be here for my daughter to call so she can understand what it is we DO for Passover. Because right now we're not doing much. Not much at all. And that's not enough. And we're doing whatever it is we can do. We're doing Passover our own way. Each year I think there will be more. We'll do more. And maybe one of these days we truly will. I don't know.
I promise my father that we will. I promise him that I won't lose all that I learned and experienced under his roof. That I'll do my best and as the years go by I'll teach my daughter. And yet. The third Passover in and I haven't done it. I haven't. And I'm not ready to.
Because grief, damn it. Grief is a beast. And it takes hold of your heart and really - even when it seems to be in hiding? - it doesn't let go.
Grief has no timeline, friends. So if you've lost someone you loved with your entire heart - someone who took a piece of your heart with them when they passed on? - don't beat yourself up over the ache that comes and goes. The smile you feel when you look at their picture, and then the immediate pain that hits you over the head and heart right after. Because you're allowed. You're allowed to grieve however you need to. Remember that.
Prince would want you to know. So would my dad. So would the person who left you too soon.
Happy Passover. May the spring weather bring flowers to bloom and butterflies to visit and reminders that your loved ones who have moved on are with you. Always.