It breaks my heart to hear the sad news of Whitney Houston's death...I feel like I've been kicked in the gut. Even though I only knew the persona she showed the world, my heart still aches like she was family.
Whitney hit the scene when I was a teenager so she quickly became one of my favorite artists. I remember arguing with my mom about who sang "I will always love you" better, Whitney or Dolly. Different generations, different influences but no doubt about the talent and gifted voices of both ladies.
Whitney Houston was a superstar, a title I can't imagine trying to live up to every day. Walking in her shoes is beyond anything I can comprehend so I'm not trying to judge her life, her choices, her decisions but I know where to place the blame for her death. Had she died in a horrible car wreck like Princess Diana or an unexpected plane crash like Aaliyah, her loss would be painful and shocking. Instead Whitney's loss is painful and shocking for a completely different reason. No matter how the coroner rules or what cause of death is printed on the death certificate, somehow her last breath will be influenced by her addiction, either as a direct cause or a contributing factor.
In recent interviews, she tried to appear new and refreshed but I could feel the tiredness of her soul. Deep inside I feared she was winding her life down, done with her time on this earth. I waited in anticipation for her come-back-tour to put her back on top, to give her back the life she was born to live. Instead her voice told us what we already knew. Just the fact that a superstar of her stature had to stage a "come-back" was proof enough of just how badly her life had de-railed. Her once amazing voice that could reach un-imaginable octaves now sounded tired, raspy and broken. The light had faded from her diamond-like eyes. Even her smile had lost a bit of its dazzle. Her body was tired of the abuse, her soul seeking a path back home. I couldn't watch the talk-show interviews found on every TV channel and plastered all over the internet. There was an uneasiness to her that felt all too familiar. I'd witnessed it up close and personal, too many people trying to convince the world and themselves that they were okay. I knew the look, the body language, the fleeting gaze that won't quite meet your eyes for more than a quick second or two. I knew the story she told. It was a little too dismissive of her past and too confident of her future. She tried to assure the interviewer that her life was back on track but she spoke in a voice that was more cocky than confident. She was trying to convince herself and hoping that no one noticed. I wouldn't be surprised if she was using the whole time she was trying to defend her new life. She was still broken...just working harder to hide it now. Maybe she really was trying to fight the devil but she wasn't ready to be in the ring...not yet.
I certainly don't claim to be an expert but I've never know or heard of an addict that successfully beats the habit without humility and honesty. It seems an impossible hill to conquer if you aren't willing to acknowledge where the blame belongs. It's never as simple as one reason or another. A terrible childhood, a broken home, rejection, bullying, heartbreak, divorce, the loss of a loved one, a rising career that plummets back to earth....the list goes on and on yet ultimately the blame must be placed at our own feet. We may have one horrible contributing factor or one hundred, but the choice is still ours.
On the Grammy Awards program tonight, they'll talk about her career, her amazing voice, a brilliant light dimmed much too early. We'll hear about the singers she influenced, the differences she made, her heart and her spirit. Even in years to come when stories are told of her rise and fall, often the surface of her addiction battles will barely be skimmed. Her stellar career will be placed directly under the spotlight but her battles will always be in a dimly lit shadow. No one will honestly tell of who she was or why she chose the path she did. All stories will either sing her praises on high or point a condemning finger. No one will simply tell her story, the whole truth, without glory or judgement.
While Whitney may have taken her story to the grave with her, she was surrounded by people who knew bits and pieces of it. They could probably piece together her life and shed light on the whole picture. Addictions aren't decided on. No one wakes up one day with the intent of losing themselves to the devil. It happens in little decisions made everyday. That's where friends and family could make a different. If we could just be diligent with our loved ones. If we could speak up in the moment instead of waiting until it's too big, too scary, too far gone. If we were willing to see a spade and call it a spade instead of trying to gloss it over or minimize it. While there's no guarantee that anything we do could ever make a difference, there is a guaranteed outcome if we aren't willing to try.
Tonight and possible forever, thousands of people will lift up Whitney Houston and place her on a pedestal. They will sing her praises and proclaim their sadness at her loss. How many do you think will stand up and ask themselves what they could have done to prevent this from happening? How many will sing the praises of her life instead of pointing out wrong turns she made over the last decade? How many will tell the whole story instead of just the highlights?
Ultimately, we can't save someone else from addiction. We can't stop a train that's already left the station. All we can do as a bystander is to be honest about it. Instead of making the addict a martyr, we have to talk about their pain and why they made the choices they did. Addiction is a monster hiding in the closet and the only way to get rid of it is to turn on the light. Only by acknowledging the wrong decisions can we hope to help others. Singing the praises of an addict's life while attempting to ignore the darkness that controlled them helps no one-not the addict--not anyone else.
The world lost an amazing singer yesterday, but her soul was lost years ago. As a singer and superstar, Whitney Houston inspired thousands of young artists hoping to follow in her footsteps. With her death, we as a collection of humanity, have a opportunity to make sure she inspires millions of young people to NOT follow in her footsteps. We have an opportunity, an obligation, to share her story--to shed light on the monster--so no one succumbs to the demon. This is our chance to give back to a woman who gave so much to so many. This is our chance to truly immortalize her. This is Whitney's ultimate gift to the world, to truly be a superstar who chances the course of humanity. This is her time to shine. This is her real "come back" tour. But it's up to us. We can open the door to the closet and face the monster head-on or we can keep it in the dark and allow it to devour more and more of us, all while we pretend it doesn't exist. The choice lies at our feet.
Rest in peace Whitney. You were blessed with the voice of an angel, but still couldn't outrun the devil.
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