I'm not one to go nuts over a celebrity. I never understood those girls (and now women) who scream, cry and even faint when they even catch a glimpse of an actor, musician or full band. Hell, I don't even really follow bands around the country. Sure, if they come to Toronto and I have the funds, I will fork over the money. But I'm no band's groupie. And that's why it's weird that I actually cried over one tonight.
Yes, I shed a few tears when I heard that one of my favourite singers, Haydain Neale of JackSoul, died after a seven-month fight with lung cancer. I must have been in a sealed box these last seven months because I didn't even know about the cancer. I knew that he'd been in a serious accident while on his scooter. I knew that he was in hospital for a long time. I had caught a few clips here and there on the radio. Perhaps it's because I'm not a groupie that I didn't know every detail.
Groupie or not, I will miss Haydain's unique vocals. His voice is, sorry, was melodic and raspy at the very same time. It was souful, heartfelt and beautiful. As soon as I learned he had died, I searched out for articles on him, more to confirm the horrible, tragic news. There, his fellow musicians commented on Haydain's life and music. What resonated the most was his kindness and his dedication to his music, no matter if it wasn't always in style.
Watching him from afar and enjoying his music, I found infinite kindness and a joy of life. It rested on every note. It was so apparent and I found such solace in it that I listened to his last CD over and over and over again. And now there will be no more music and I will continue to listen to the CD over and over again so Haydain's own brand of joy does not disappear from my life.
So much for not being a groupie.