The Greatest Love of All

is one of the first songs I can remember singing into my hairbrush. My Mama called me this weekend while I was at the McG's for their younger son's first bday party. As is atypical for a Saturday evening, I had neither talked to my mom nor surfed the internet for several hours. (How *did* we socialize before IPhones and Facebook? Oh, yes. With actual people, face-to-face.) Mama called just as I was about to show Gwen a video of Gabriel reading sight words from a book he brought home from school, literally right as I was commenting about how much of a "mom moment" I was having. So I answered her call, figuring I'd quickly explain where I was and call her back later. But before I got any of that out, she asked me if I'd heard that Whitney died. My response was rather abrupt and I alarmed her unduly before ending our conversation and getting back to the company I was with. Sorry, Mama. I wasn't as upset as I sounded, but I think I am now.

The thing about Whitney is not that I ever met her personally, or even that I necessarily idolized her and wanted to be like her when I grew up. But in the soundtrack of my life, her music and voice have always been there: the soundtracks to "The Bodyguard," "The Preacher's Wife," and even "The Prince of Egypt" are so classic and timeless and intertwined with my childhood. It's really difficult to comprehend that such a notable life has ended so abruptly.

As I spoke with BFFJ this weekend, we talked about how easy it could have been for either of us to have fallen for and stayed with the wrong man - as seems to have happened to Whitney Houston. (Say what you will about Black love and any marriage being hard, but to my eyes he never seemed to be a positive influence on her and her life decisions.)

But I digress.

I'm genuinely sad and somewhat heartbroken that Whitney Houston has died so abruptly, unexpectedly, and young. I can't presume that I knew her because I memorized lyrics to songs she sang, but those songs are so much a part of my memories growing up that her death feels somewhat personal.

I do hope that media outlets are respectful of her life and her death, and that her family won't be harassed as they struggle to grieve and heal privately.

P.S.: I almost cried when Adele won the last, most coveted Grammy last night. It seemed so fitting that such a fantastic singer as she should win right after Whitney died. Adele's talent and success are about her voice - not politics or grandstanding through music or gyrating or sex or crazy costumes. Whitney's early success was all about her voice as well. And seeing Adele win felt right and appropriate to me.