2016 Celebrity Deaths
Allow me to shine a bit of much-needed light on 2016. A lot has been made of the celebrity deaths of this year.
Allow me to shine a bit of much-needed light on 2016. A lot has been made of the celebrity deaths of this year.
David Bowie. Prince. Muhammad Ali. George Michael. Carrie Fisher.
I am — obviously — not trying to create a complete list. Unless you’ve been living under a rock, you know that it seemed like we were touched by a celebrity death every few days.
My larger point is that there is a difference between sadness and tragedy. It is sad when anyone dies. Full stop. I am not, in any way, making light of somebody’s passing. Please do not take this that way at all.
But what is truly tragic is untimely and/or sudden death — somebody taken from us in their prime, at their peak, when they had so much more to give.
I was personally affected by the untimely and sudden death of Anton Yelchin, an actor we lost at the age of 27, in a freak car accident. That, to me, is tragic.
But we all have to leave this world sometime. It’s not like Muhammad Ali could live forever in the physical form. The fact that he valiantly battled Parkinson’s for so many years before succumbing is a cause not for despair but for hope. Moreover, he has achieved immortality as he lives on in our hearts.
In fact, his death, like so many this year, was far, far past his glory days. It’s not like that scene in Fletch when Chevy Chase is pretending to know somebody he doesn’t:
Doctor: You know… it’s a shame about Ed.
Fletch: Oh, it was. It was really a shame. To go so suddenly like that.
Doctor: He was dying for years.
Fletch: Sure, but, uh, the end was very… very sudden.
Doctor (incredulously): He was in intensive care for eight weeks?!
Fletch: Yeah, but I mean the VERY end. When he actually died — that was extremely sudden.
Many of us hadn’t thought about many of these folks in many years. That isn’t to be callous; it’s to recognize that perhaps, instead of acting as if death is an unexpected tragedy, we should be grateful that they were with us for so long — to create their best work, to share their talents with us, and to have some peace away from the public eye.
This isn’t James Dean or Jimi Hendrix or Janis Joplin or even, more recently, Kurt Cobain or Amy Winehouse. Those were true tragedies. And even in their cases, some humans are such a burning, intense light that they come, light up our lives, and are off into the void.
(And even in our own mourning, it’s imperative to note that this grief, however personal it is for us, is not only about us. These people are actual human beings — with families, friends, a phone number, car keys. So, let’s not forget that they weren’t only personas but persons — our sadness should extend and include their families, their friends, their loved ones.)
Most of the celebrity deaths this year were far from that. They transitioned gradually from our world to the next. As General Douglas MacArthur said, “Old soldiers never die. They just fade away.”
Every time one of these legends leaves us, it’s a chance for us to share their talents with the next generation. Just look at the number of Google searches the next day. Millennials… children… the next wave of people… we’ve all experienced the pleasure of blasting “Changes” or “Little Red Corvette” or “Faith” so that their creations can live on.
So, as the year comes to a close, let’s allow ourselves to be sad but let’s also allow ourselves to reflect on just how lucky we have been to have had these people in our lives.
Rajiv Satyal is a standup comic. He resides in Los Angeles.