To stay like this for a hundred more years.
Francesca Battistelli’s titular song from her most recent album has been scrolling through my head today. I can’t quite shake it off (not that I really want to, anyway) and it has my mind thinking of life today. So many little details make up the lives that we think we love or hate. So many little differences that set us apart and bring us together in a single moment.
Today’s kind of a rambling sort of day, you’ve probably noticed a few posts or tweets appearing here or there, but not much else. Today’s my rest day. I don’t do anything but rest. I pray. Worship. Think.
Sometimes I write.
Sometimes I think I will write.
Sometimes I sit down and do nothing.
It’s different, special.
Today, I skimmed through my usual internet routine (the abbreviated weekend version, mind you, there is a difference!) and noticed one snippet of news that was rather sobering.
Amy Winehouse passed away at age 27.
I sat and stared at the screen for a moment, then I hurried to check if that was real. It didn’t seem like it could be, because she was young, I knew she was young. She couldn’t die. In my half-awake brain, you only died if you were old or suffering from an incurable medical condition.
It seems far too young to die, especially as a singer. I must admit I don’t really recall her music, (mostly because my music is a whole different world altogether), but I do remember her. I remember her hair, her smile, that crazy wild eyeliner and that somewhat haunting look in her eyes. Maybe I was reading too much into it, but I always remember her that way, I always see her eyes.
Then I wonder, I wonder if she loved what she did and if that outward fearlessness was something she couldn’t give up or hold onto. I don’t know. It’s not my place to imagine up things of other people, not my place to pass judgment.
It’s sad that she has passed on. She was a human being. She had family and fans that will undoubtedly miss her. She was barely a handful of years older than I am. May she rest in peace.
I guess what bothers me is that if you were to live to ninety at least, then there was so much ahead of her. So much more. So much life left to live.
Just a thought for the day.