I didn’t find out from Facebook that David Bowie had died — I found out from friends texting me: Bowie dead, cancer, not a hoax, not wanting me to find out from Facebook.
It’s not like I was totally unprepared. I’ve been a fan since I was 14; I knew he’d outlive me and that the day would come up eventually. I guess I thought I’d be older and more prepared when it happened, but the day finally came, and I was just older.
I could draw some long, complicated link between Bowie and making and knitting and art and fulfillment and some kind of personal creative ethos, but but honestly right now it still feels like that stage of grief where you don’t feel properly sad yet because you’re still trying to puzzle out how it feels to have a chunk of your personal landscape go missing on no notice. I never met the guy but having someone along secondhand for so much of your life, for so many highs and lows, you end up feeling like they’re a part of it.
Bowie, man. If I couldn’t have forever, I’m glad I got what I got.