You’ve Been Gone

This isn’t about hiking, weight loss or gain, or my gym time. This is about Prince.

I don’t even know what to say. I’m just hoping to say enough words so it becomes real in my mind that he’s actually gone. That there’s no more opportunities for me to plan my plan of action if he comes around my area. No more waiting for just the right time for me to take that spontaneous trip to Minneapolis to go to a house party at Paisley Park. No new music. No seeing him doing his Prince thing. No more. Ever again. Gone.

I’ve been a Prince fan for as long as I remember. My earliest memories of music entail my Mom’s music (Manilow, Captain & Tennille, Rod Stewart), my Dad’s music (The Stones, CCR, “Cover of the Rolling Stone,” Dylan), and me in the dining room with those huge headphones on, curled cord tethering me the wall sized stereo setup my Dad bought while in the military, listening to the “Purple Rain” soundtrack over and over and over. Rollerskating in the street to a neighbor’s “1999” cassette.” “17 Days” on 45 at my friend Becky’s house. “I Want to Be Your Lover” at Natalie’s.

Mom took me to see “Purple Rain” in the theatre. I was 12. And it left lasting impressions on me. It shaped in my young mind was sexy. I see the influence in my life strongly.

I was always a Prince fan. Everyone knew. My ex-husband knew that if Prince ever knocked on the door, I was out of there. He said that would be fine.

The day he died, I went into denial. And then I went into a sobbing mess in my office chair with my door closed to try to be somewhat professional. I couldn’t talk about it. I refused to talk about him in the past tense. Because I was never going to live in a world without Prince. It just wasn’t going to happen.

Yet, here we are. Doing just that. I have all of the tribute magazines to prove it.


I don’t usually get that worked up about celebrity deaths. But this didn’t feel like a celebrity death to me. It felt as if something important was ripped out of my life before I’d had opportunity to prepare. It felt like a grim reminder of all of the things that I plan to do someday that I may not actually ever get to do. I didn’t want that type of reminder. I wasn’t ready for that type of reminder. I’m still young. I’m supposed to still be able to have “Go to a house party at Paisley Park” on my to do list and I’m supposed to know that is really going to happen someday.

When I see reminders that he’s dead, cremated, and gone I just hurt. So, I’m hoping that by pulling these feelings and thoughts out of my head and leaving them here will help move that along. Because I need it to move along.

He died too soon.

This feels dumb. So I’ll end it now.