I remember watching the first episode of 'Glee' when it aired after the American Idol finale; I kept it on my DVR that entire summer and watched it, truthfully, more times than I care to admit. In my mind, it stands as one of the best hours of television of all time.
Though I was long past high school then, I identified with these characters - small town kids with big ambitions trying to figure out exactly who they are and how to get where they want to go. This past spring, I was talking to some old friends, friends who had known me since high school and before, about the show and the direction it had taken - if Rachel had become too over the top. I quite honestly replied, "Let's be really honest here. Rachel Berry and I are kindred spirits. Her neuroses are tied to her musical talent. Mine were tied to my academic success. She'll never be too over the top."
Central to my enjoyment of 'Glee' was the character of Finn Hudson - the affable every-man who bridged the gap between the popular kids and the glee club, the guy who made a lot of mistakes but always eventually got to the right place, someone who truly believed that there wasn't much that a sense of family and a kicking drum track couldn't overcome. It was, with sadness, that I read about the untimely death of the actor who played Finn - Cory Monteith.
It's weird, right, the death of celebrity? I mean, I obviously didn't know the guy - but I was a big fan of his work and he always came across well in interviews/media/the press. His co-workers seemed to really like him. When it came out that he was struggling with addiction, it also seemed like he was taking the appropriate steps to help himself. I mean, again, I didn't know the guy; his death has little to no bearing on my day to day life but it still made me sad.
So, why is that? Why are people so profoundly impacted by his death? You can check nearly any corner of the internet and see just how profound that impact has been. I think there's three elements at play. First, and maybe this is just me, but he was my age. And now he's dead. That makes me face my own mortality in a way that I don't generally have to.
Second, and this is exacerbated by the way that he died, but it's hard to see a hero fall. This is a guy who was looked up to by so many - for his performance work, for his charity work, for the blurred line between he & his character. And though he was honest about his struggles, it's not like we ever had to see them or look at them. This is concrete proof that the people we look up to aren't infallible. I remember when I found out some of the least savory things one of my brothers did in high school... it crushed me. I had spent my whole life looking up to him and to find out he did things that I would never even consider doing; it was hard. I have to imagine that there are fans out there, probably younger, that are re-evaluating what it means to choose a role model. (This doesn't discount all the good Monteith did; I'm not trying to reduce him to one action. Seeing someone you admire doing something you disapprove of just makes the world a little (or a lot) more gray. This is tough.)
Most interestingly though, I think, is the idea that grieving for the death of a public figure is, in a way, a symbolic way to express all the other grief in your life. This is a story that 'Glee' has explicitly told us. In the episode 'Dance With Somebody', a tribute to Whitney Houston, guidance counselor Emma explains her reaction to the death of Princess Diana - she cried and wrote letters for months. This wasn't because she had any real tie to the Princess; it was a way to outwardly express all her anxiety around high school graduation, going to college, figuring out her life, etc. She goes on to say that, "Diana dying represented the loss of my childhood." I have to imagine this hits pretty close to home. Personally, when I saw the news on Twitter, it was a Saturday night and I was sitting at home alone. You know what I am? I'm a person who doesn't stay home on Saturday nights - but my cross-country move has significantly diminished my social life. So when I fired up the regionals version of 'Faithfully' and shed a couple tears, it was as much for me - what I'm worried about and frustrated by -as it was for him, an excuse to release all that emotion.
At the end of the day, he was a guy who died very young and left behind family, friends, co-workers, and legions of fans and though the majority who mourn him are in that last category, I think it's okay to be sad.
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