I remember as far back as the day that FDR died. I was only three years old when the President died but I remember distinctly how my grandparents and parents reacted to his death. We had a big, old fashioned radio and my family sat in front of it all day listening for the bits and pieces of news that came out on that fateful day. I remember my grandmother standing in our kitchen with tears running down her face and me asking her why she was crying. Her answer, “I am peeling onions”, was spoken in order not to alarm a toddler who had no concept of death.

My next encounter with the death of a famous person was when John F. Kennedy died. I was 21 when he was shot and very aware of all of the details that ensued on that day in Dallas. I watched television from morning until night and beyond as the public funeral, the shooting of Lee harvey Oswald by Jack Ruby and all of the wall to wall coverage continued for most of that week in November. I cried when his young son John-John saluted his casket and when taps was played at Arlington as the Eternal Flame was lit beside his grave. As a young adult it had a great impact on me and I felt as if a member of my own family had died.

When Bobby Kennedy was shot I had a personal stake in the proceedings as I worked for his campaign and was supposed to attend the festivities at the Ambassador Hotel that night. Another long, sad week followed as his funeral train made it’s way to Arlington Cemetary for his somber burial.

Elvis Presley’s death was another shock and since he was my idol while in my teens I was probably even more shocked than ever before. How could a young man like my idol Elvis be dead? I was acquainted with one of his body guards, Sonny West at the time and his book had just come out about Elvis abusing drugs. No one believed that Elvis was a junkie until his autposy proved Sonny to be correct in what he wrote about in his book. Seeing the picture of a bloated Elvis lying in his coffin was a shock as I could only picture the extremely handsome and sexy Elvis of my youth and not this awful looking man who bore no resemblence to the Elvis I idolized.

When Princess Diana passed away at such a young age I was sitting in front of my telelvison set watching CNN when it was reported that she had been in a car accident, but was simply injured I instantly knew in my heart that this was not going to be the case. When they annmounced a short while later that she had died I was not surprised. The week long mourning and funeral was almost surreal. I think that the most moving parts of the process for me was when Elton John sang “Candle In The Wind” and when I saw the flowers on her coffin that spelled out the word “Mummy”, from her two young sons.

Since then, many famous and infamous people have passed away, but until June 25th when Michael jackson died suddenly, I had no recollection of where I was when I heard of their passing. I will probably always remember what I was doing on the day that Michael passed. It hit me the same way that the passing of JFK, RFK, Elvis and Princess Diana did. I was not a huge Jackson fan and immediately suspected that he had died from some drug related cause. Sadly, I was right. I was not a fan yet I followed the coverage and the Memorial Service hour after hour.

So, why is it that when these iconic individuals die, we the public, often react in such a dramatic way? Why is it that we feel as if a family member has passed and many of us remember exactly what we were doing when we heard the news? Perhaps it’s because as a society we are always seeking heroes to look up too. Perhaps they fill some kind of empty space within us and become a part of our existence in ways that we don’t understand until they are gone? Except for meeting RFK and having a connection to Elvis through Sonny West, I had never met the others, yet I felt their passing deeply and cried for them as if I had known them personally.

The next question would be, why do we grant them iconic status in the first place? They are after all, human just like the rest of us. They are born and they die just like the rest of us. Perhaps it’s simply because they have accomplished so much more than most of us ever will and we admire them for doing what we will never be able to do. Michael Jackson had talent that few possess, John Kennedy had charisma that was hypnotizing and Diana seemed so vulnerable and delicate and in need of our empathy and protection even though she was privileged and untouchable to most of us. Yet, we mourned her and we remember her just as we mourned and remembered all those I have written about here.

The odd thing is that after our icons die we fill up the hole that they’ve left in our hearts with someone new and the process repeats itself again and again. I suppose that psychologists would have answers for why this deeply felt sadness befalls us and they would explain it far better than I ever could. I just know that it is a phenomenon that occurs and that after all of the crying and disbelief subsides I am left with a feeling of wonderment at how strongly I reacted to the deaths of these famous people.

Perhaps the word “Famous” explains it all? They become part of our consciousness and therefore we feel as if we knew them and that they deserve our heartfelt sympathy. Perhaps we go through the grieving process because they were famous and the feelings we experience are not totally real, but expected?

I have no real understanding of why icons are created by us mortal folks but I know that they will always exist in some form or the other. We need them. I also know that somewhere there is an icon waiting to be discovered and that when that superior human being dies, we will mourn him or her as if they were as close to us as a true family member. The cycle goes on and I don’t see it changing anytime soon.