There are few things in life we find hard to accept. One of them is the death of a person close to you. Another is the death of a person you thought would always be there, like a star in the universe that will outshine you and outlive you by far. I first experienced this unease when Princess Diana died, followed soon by Mother Teresa. But I was little, so I was just shocked. Later came the deaths of Slobodan Milošević, the crocodile hunter, Albus Dumbledore, Saddam Hussein and Anna Nichole Smith; the perish of Arafat, the coma of Sharon, the fainting of Castro. Sudden deaths are like very bad surprises. Even the expected death of Saddam was sudden. It always leaves you wondering whether they had anything planned and their lives were cut short without any warnings.
All these people were a part of my very troubled childhood: we used their names as if they were biblical characters with some unquestionable divine authorities. Now I’m a half-grown-up, and now their deaths are no longer just deaths; their expiry marks the end of an era, the conclusion of something meaningful. Them dying without consulting me first and asking if I’d achieved anything to even start considering a conclusion – that’s viewed as irresponsible. The most shocking deaths are, however, probably still to come: that of Michael Jackson, Elton John, Cindy Crawford, Kim Basinger, Bill Gates; Bush Senior, Clinton, Eltsin and Gorbachov.