Still broken hearted

I am sitting here in my little place in my home where I watch and listen to and have dedicated to my Michael Jackson.  This is his place.  Nothing else can invade it.

I’ve just finished watching, again, Bad in Japan, 1987.  Preparing to watch, yet again, Michael Jackson Commemorated days leading to his 45th birthday.  But in between these 2 very special treasured memories, I have once again opened the pages to Michael’s things, Neverland Lost, and I am in tears.  It’s very hard for me to look at these beautiful personal belongings of our Michael.  They have been boxed up and pushed away as it feels sometimes Michael was.  Just seeing them, especially the items with his makeup still around the collars, the shoes with the missing gormet bearing his name on the sole, the things that made up his life.  The telling things like the many little statues and trinkets and artifacts that spoke louder than any words ever could, of his lonliness and his aching desire to recreate the childhood he never had.  To see them, in all their glory, yet in all their simplicity, makes me once again go there.  Where you ask… back to the time when Michael Jackson was happy.  Back to the joy inside his tears.  Back to his Neverland where he at least was surrounded by the things that gave him comfort and a sense of belonging.  When he lost that… he lost a greater piece of himself.  I truly feel as much.

I ask myself why, why couldn’t they let him have the one thing in his life that gave him peace? His home.  The home built from the imagination of a child in an adult world.  The home were he felt safe and surrounded by familiar things.  The place that gave him back a piece of the childhood that passed him by.  Was that too much to ask?  Michael never asked anything of the world except his privacy.  No matter how much he sacrificed for others, to give us and everyone around him joy and magic and a piece of heaven on earth, he never required we give him anything in return.  Never asked for recognition.  Never asked anything more than we see him as a human being, a good man.  And that he was.  None before and none after will ever measure up no matter how hard one might try.  It’s just not in the stars.  Michael held the universe in his gently, worn hands and he handled it with care.

I don’t know why God allowed Michael to suffer so much.  There are some things that only God holds the answers to.  I guess this is one of them.  50 years is such a short life for one so full of life and love for every living, breathing thing.  For one who had such vibrance and fire, 50 years is not long at all.  He surely had 50 more had the tables not turned against him.  But I guess one might say, that’s all water under the bridge now.  I know however, that the water is surely troubled at his crossing over so soon.

I am still broken hearted and I seem to get more and more saddened as the days fall away towards 2 years.  I don’t know that I will ever return to the person I was pre 6/25/09.  I only know that it’s coming and nothing can turn back the hands of time.  So I will play the songs, read the books, watch the performances, and shed the tears in my Michael room possibly for the rest of my life.  Will it ever get easier? Maybe.  Will it ever not give me cause to reflect? Never.  Will I treasure these things for the rest of my life? Definitely.

Michael Jackson, I will never let your memory part, for you’re always on my mind and forever in my heart.  You are so beautiful to me...