My Love is Your Love...The greatest love of all

Saturday on the way to celebrate the birthday of a dear friend of mine. I got the news. Whitney Houston was dead. Yeah right just another rumor, but it wasn't and I wasn't prepared. We went to the dinner, talked about Whitney and all things life...all things life. I thought I was OK. I thought I would digest this like I did Michael Jackson's death. I remembered his talents, laughed at my infatuation with him in my youth, and watched as many videos as I could. But Whitney's death for some reason is different and I have spent all weekend trying to figure out why my heart literally and figuratively hurts. Why was it when I woke up this morning I wanted to believe it was all a dream? Why am I so hurt by this one? Why is this a manic Monday for me?

Then it hit me. When Michael Jackson died my mother was still with me. She was the first person I called and that may have in some way softened the blow for me...actually she called me along with my sister to ask if I was OK. (Yeah I was that big of a fan). We shared memories, I went to her house and we watched videos, and there in her living room we said good bye to one of the people who provided the soundtrack to my childhood and adolescence. Whitney Houston was another person who provided the soundtrack to my childhood and adolescence. The memories of my singing my heart out and my mom half laughing and half appaluding almost overwhelm me. Then I think about my dad and his dancing with me while I sang horribly to Whitney Houston and the pain keeps coming, because he's gone now too. Am I strong enough to grieve them in unexpected moments the rest of my life?

Bobbi Kristina, Whitney's Daughter, Cissy Houston, Whitney's mother...I can relate to Bobbi's pain, but what must it be like to have to bury your daughter and still be strong for your granddaughter. A baby lost her mother and a mother lost her baby. The very notion of that is one my head can comprehend, but my heart can not. My mom is not here so soften the pain I feel everyday without her here. My dad will never again dance with me. But you know what keeps pounding on my chest, I see my daughters in Bobbi Kristina. Not in how she looks or even who she is (I don't know her) just the fact that at such a young age she has to suffer the pain I know all too well. A pain I really don't want my children to ever feel, but the reality is, one day they will bury me...They will grieve and say good bye to me and I will not be here to soften the blow. I then think about Ms. Cissy Houston. She has to bury her child! Not Whitney the superstar. Not Whitney the model. Not Whitney the woman with a voice that soothed the souls of so many. But Whitney the little girl she gave birth to. The little girl who she escorted into this life and who carried her heart with her all of her days. Because once you become a mom, your heart lives outside of your body. God willing I will never have to experience that kind of pain. My mom always told me "My job as a parent is to teach you to navigate this world without me. You are supposed to bury me." She's told me that every time death scared me and I thought of living without her.

Writing this has helped me work through some of my pain. I had to recognize that the pain I am feeling is the grief of losing my mother. It's the pain of one more thing that was a part of my childhood being gone. It's the grief of kind of knowing what Bobbi Kristina is going through. I say kind of, because my mom's death didn't bring the news and entertainment media with all of their commentary and examination of her life and death. I could turn on the TV or go to the internet to escape. I was able to go through the first few moments of her death surrounded by goodness. I am able to grieve without the scrutiny of the world. I wish this was the case for Bobbi Kristina. And Ms. Cissy Houston, I can only try not to go to that place that has you to wonder what life would be like if the heart that lives on the outside of your body suddenly stops beating and you are left to figure out how to keep living without it.

On Saturday a baby lost her mother, and a mother lost her baby. Rest in Peace Whitney Houston. When you see my mom and dad, just tell them my strength comes from all the lessons they taught me. I didn't know my own strength, until I had to navigate this world without them.