I haven’t been alone in suspecting Whitney Houston’s future was slimming in front of our eyes every time we saw her and what remained. It made me cry. Oh Whitney I am so very sorry.
This stunning song bird of paradise burst onto center stage like a hurricane with a presence so bright she outshone the sun. First view, I almost fell on the floor. I don’t do that much. Then there was the immaculate Star Spangled Banner. I can still hear her high notes in my head and my heart.
Memory maybe reshapes the image but I see it still, Whitney dressed in some tight shimmering little suit, broad shouldered like a swimmer, hips narrower than a young birch tree, tall as the sky and overwhelmingly electric with life, passion, indescribable beauty. And Jesus God, what a voice!
Thanks for the wow, Whitney. For loving America. For your heavenly visitation…we weep at its briefness. Thank you for soaring so high in front of us.
It’s that unfairness we mourn too, that you flew like that publicly and we loved you when we saw it now you’ve taken it away. Everyone has the right to die, make their own journey down even unbearable trails. It sure hurts the left behinders. Today, someone had to say the words, Your mom is dead. Her mom has to say the words, My daughter is gone, forever.
Whitney Houston was born the same year Edith Piaf died, 1963. She outlived The Little Sparrow by a year and four months, Piaf made it to 47. Houston to 48.
Didn’t you get that you made us care. I wish that alone had kept you going, sweet soul. I will always love you, but love isn’t always enough.