Eight days ago Michael Clarke Duncan, who you probably know better from the Green Mile but who I remember as the Kingpin in Affleck’s Daredevil, passed away having never fully recovered from a heart attack. Whenever a celebrity dies people take to the internet to mourn, and I saw the following comment on one of MGK’s very simple memorial posts:
What struck me was what exactly made this summer more heartbreaking than any other. Was it the suicide of Top Gun filmmaker Tony Scott? The passing of puppeteer Jerry Nelson? Moreover, was this summer any more “heartbreaking” than 2009, when Michael Jackson, Farrah Fawcett, Ed McMahon, and Billy Mays died?
Billy Mays was the spokesperson for OxiClean, as well as a slew of other products. When he died thousands mourned, with many wondering who could ever replace such a huge figure in the infomercial world. There are groups commemorating him, with a Facebook page called “i remember where i was when Billy Mays died 😦“, and a group on Experience Project called “I Remember Billy Mays“.
Billy Mays was a person who was famous for “being famous” and being able to “shout his lines rapidly while hunched-over.”
On Sunday evening my grandmother, who had Alzheimer’s, opened the door down to the basement and closed it behind her. Standing there in the dark she had a stroke and fell down the stairs. In the ICU of St. Michael’s Hospital she passed away just as the priest finished administering the last rites.
Liwayway Angeles was born March 10th, 1924, and left her family too soon at the age of 88. While she had been struggling with Alzheimer’s for over a decade, it was within the past month that a daily dose of coconut oil had begun taking effect on her mind. She had become more lucid, and happier, forming complete sentences when it had been so difficult in years past.
I lived with my grandparents for the first three years of college, from the summer of 2008 to the summer of 2011. While the dementia from her Alzheimer’s was difficult more often than not, I took it upon myself to help them in every way I could, even if that meant simply sitting next to her on the couch and marvelling with her at the size of the crowds on the television.
My grandmother, or Nanay [mother in Tagalog] Two, as we had come to call her, was a lovely, kind, intelligent woman who was victim of a disease that robbed her of her memories and played havoc on her mood. But as one of her older grandchildren I can remember a time when she was well, when she played the piano and asked us what we wanted to be when we grew up.
Last night almost twenty family members gathered around her bed in the ICU to say good-bye before they took her down to the morgue. We were there actually, sincerely mourning the passing of a life that had affected every one of us in ways we couldn’t fully explain.
These weren’t tears like the ones I saw in the eyes of my classmate one January morning in 2008, with news that Heath Ledger had just died. This was someone that we knew personally, who we loved even during the most difficult times.
I’m not saying that the passing of Billy Mays wasn’t a significant, sorrowful experience for those who knew him. I’m not saying that Michael Jackson’s music didn’t have a profound, and even life-changing effect on those who listened to it. I’m not saying that an actor’s performance in a film and the knowledge that it’s their last isn’t a sombre thing.
What I’m saying is that there is a difference between mourning a celebrity and mourning someone you actually know, just like there’s a difference between “loving” Farrah Fawcett and loving your grandmother. Death in any case is a powerful, real thing, but how we choose to react to it is important. Sadness at the loss of a celebrity makes sense, but we need to realize how much it pales in comparison to actual, palpable loss.
Rest in peace, Nanay Two.
March 10th, 1924 – September 9th, 2012.
I miss you already.
Hi Evan, this is very well put! I am proud of you. love, papa
Hello Evan! I like what you have written. You write well. God bless you. love, chik chik.
I am truly sorry for your loss. It sounds like you have a strong family to lean on. My own grandma also suffered for many years from Alzheimer’s before she died. I am so sad that anyone has to watch their loved one slip away like that.
Your post is very well written. I very much agree with your point.
Evan, this is a beautiful , sensitive tribute. You have written with great respect for the lives of all those you mentioned, and obviously deep love for your grandmother. My father passed in 2007 at the age of 73 after 10 years with dementia. I miss him still. You are a fine writer and I have no doubt- also a fine grandson. May you and your family find comfort and peace.
I’d like to thank both Amanda and Cheryl for their kind words. I don’t know either of you personally, but I feel blessed by your compassion, as well as knowing that I was able to write something others could relate to on a personal level.
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Very well written Evan. You raised excellent points and also transparently shared your heart about your own loss. Thanks for this post. Praying for you and your family.
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We also call our grandmother “Nanay”, it came from my brother hearing our mom calling her that and just stuck. I had no idea other families did that as well. I’m so sorry to hear your loss, she seems like a beautiful woman with a lovely family that she’s created. Sumalangit nawa ang kanyang kaluluwa (may her soul rest in peace).
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