I just totally don't f#cking get it

ahem

So there are moments in your life that are iconic, and there are works of art that are meaningful to you, and there are songs that hit you in the solar plexus, and there are movies that took on an outsized importance because you saw it the first time with that boy that absolutely ruled your sophomore year.

And you move on and you become someone new and some of the songs drop by the wayside and some of them take on new meaning but as you grow older these milestones become fewer and as a consequence, brighter in the dark.

Here, lemme lift this from my Facebook:

When I was very small and "Space Oddity" would come on, I'd climb up on the shelf next to my mom's kitchen radio and sit perfectly still, silently singing the words to myself and dreaming about the universe. As a kid, I watched "Labyrinth" over and over, ostensibly for the Muppets, but really for the Goblin King. As I grew older, I listened to the albums, read the Rolling Stone interviews, got to know the personas. The Beatles were my obsession at that age, but Bowie was my constant companion: a promise that there would always be new art to discover, and that the world would always have room for more creativity and weirdness. RIP, friend and mentor.

This is a Russian Literature professor at an Ivy League. She's got plenty going on that has nothing to do with David Bowie. But every time she heard Space Oddity, she becomes a kid climbing up on the counter to dream about the universe. And now, when she hears Space Oddity she'll hear a finality with it. A tolling of the bell. A subtle reminder that all things must pass, that we are all mortal, that even dreams die.

Here's another:

In 1983, when we started dating, xxxxxxxx told me "I love David Bowie and if he offered, I would leave you to be with him" my reply was (and is) "if he offers, I will gladly help you pack your bags"

His wife is in hospice. They've been married 30 years. Their mutual love of David Bowie formed a memorable, initial core of a lasting relationship. David Bowie's passing adds poignancy to an already poignant experience.

I know you said not to try and make you understand, but I can't get rid of the frustrating and alienating part without it. People aren't mourning David Bowie. Not really. They're mourning the end of a living connection to their past. Doesn't matter if it's David Bowie or Lemmy Kilminster or Liberace or Abe Vigoda (made you look) - our relationship with cultural touchstones is largely independent of those touchstones until they end.

And then we all mourn together.