Hello and happy Sunday funday. [Blogged while wondering why my roommate turned the air off. Sticking to my bed sheets. Send help.]
It’s been about a week and a half since Linkin Park’s Chester Bennington died and, like many, I’m still so sad. I’m not a die-hard fan, but they’re one of my favorite bands. In my CD collection (A CD is this thing whe- oh, you remember? K.), my Linkin Park CDs stack as high as Nsync’s. So you know it’s real.
Of all the celeb deaths in my lifetime, this one hit me the hardest. Not only because of the already tragic circumstances of depression and suicide, but because their music — his voice — has been a part of my life since I was a kid. Linkin Park is reminiscent of my childhood, my best friends across the street and our love of music.
As I checked the socials after the news broke, I saw an overwhelming amount of posts with such heartfelt tributes from fans around the world who so strongly identified with their music — and some even the very feelings that Chester had struggled with. I saw photos, drawings, stories, videos of people singing and dancing to their music. It was moving, to say the least.
And just last night I scanned a packed Target Field with people singing and dancing and losing their minds to the sounds of our childhood. I couldn’t help but smile as all my ’90s girl dreams washed over me like a euphoric tidal wave. There’s just nothing like a bunch of strangers feeling the same vibes from a universal medicine.
In a world where everyone seems to be so divided, it’s a beautiful thing to see people come together over their unified love of something so simple and yet so powerful. We have it in us to love and support each other. We should do it more often.