Death Of a Celebrity
“Did you hear?”
Chris had just walked in with Bee after her soccer game, and I led him straight to the TV, where all he had to do was read the headline, plastered to the bottom of the screen.
‘No,’ he said as he assessed the picture.
I watched his face for a response, wondering if it would be his usual non-chalant, this-is-just-Hollywood-gossip indifference.
‘Wow,’ he said, still fairly deadpan.
I baited – ‘I’m totally shocked. Aren’t you? Aren’t you shocked? He had a heart attack. I think this is shocking.’
He looked at me, the way only a husband who knows all of his wife’s nooks and crannies, could.
‘You love this shit, don’t you?’
I looked at him, mouth gaping. Now, I know he did not mean that I am glad that somebody died, or that I could be the one to deliver a meaty scoop; he meant that I kind of get high off of the buzz of unexpected big news – especially when that big news is the death of a celebrity.
And it’s gross, but he’s right.
Farrah Fawcett died Thursday morning, after a 3-year battle with cancer. And I knew immediately, because I had been checking people.com almost hourly. To be fair, I was not only checking to see if Ms Fawcett had finally succumbed to a terrible, scary disease.
I was also checking to see if Patrick Swayze had yet died.
Please understand – I do not want these people to die. I am sad that they will, that they do. I am not on some weird celebrity deathwatch because I want death to come, but because I don’t.
Death, in fact, scares me to death.
My father died of pancreatic cancer 20 months ago. Needless to say, it was horrible. So, Patrick Swayze’s announcement that he was battling the same illness that took my own father’s life has bonded him to me. Keeping track of Patrick Swayze’s fight has given me the ability to see pancreatic cancer in a tentative, distanced way that, to be sure, still makes me anxious and scared, but also is helping me find a tiny bit of peace.
It’s like I’m on Lost, ok? And, the smoke monster is chasing me and my best friend, and it gets my best friend, so now I’m petrified of the smoke monster. But then, a few seasons later, I encounter the smoke monster again, but this time I’m hiding behind a tree, and it doesn’t see me, and I watch it circle it’s prey, and realize how complex and smart the smoke monster really is. I’m still totally scared of it, but now I also kind of respect it, and I know that, for the moment, I’m safe. For now, I can just watch it and hopefully gain some understanding of it, so that if it comes back again, I might just know how to duck out of its way and protect myself.
Anyway, that’s how it is with my Patrick Swayze cancer watch. And how it was with Farrah Fawcett’s illness, particularly after I watched her special on TV last month.
The illnesses and deaths of celebrities, which we now have round the clock access to thanks to the internet/Twitter/Facebook/blogs, has totally invaded the privacy of these people and their families, yes, but has also helped me cope with my own personal sadness.
The death of a celebrity, expected or not, offers an arm’s-length opportunity to cope with an inevitable, but hopefully far-off, truth.
Although I’m pretty sure there won’t be paparazzi at my funeral.
This is an original Canada Moms Blog post. Karen also blogs at The Kids Are Alright.
