As I sit here, a day removed from the Michael Jackson memorial, I can't help but look back to some of the more vivid moments: Reverend Al Sharpton thanking Michael for the barriers broken, Brooke Shields discussing her friendship ... to Paris just trying to let us know that Michael was the best daddy.
How strong he must have been as a father to show his children such stoicism. As a world together, we have sent our blessings to his family. We have shown them how much we cared, but what I keep thinking of is his three children - Prince, Paris, and Blanket - who don't have a life time of memories, but rather a scant few years to have enjoyed the love of their daddy. My heart aches for their loss -- and it doesn't matter how many videos or sound recordings there are of their father -- they will never be able to feel the arms of their daddy any longer. And for this, I am so sorry. For I have no doubt that it was the collective us that caused him to live a life that we cannot begin to understand -- and caused his death while he still had small children. Everyone who bought a tabloid or watched for a glimpse of him on the latest sleeze tv or thought that they knew him when we were really so far removed -- shame on us.
Amen.
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