Waking up to bad news is never easy.
It is especially difficult when the news is based on loss, on death.
Today the shocking announcement of the death of Chris Cornell shook my soul. He was among my personal favorites musicians. Details surrounding his death, heartbreaking. I made an early morning phone call to a friend with the news. In the past we would get together and listen to his latest albums as soon as they were released and catch every show possible: especially his acoustic "unplugged" shows. They were so personal. Knowing that we will never see that charismatic artist on stage again in this life is terribly hard to swallow.
However, I choose to focus on his life force.
The very tangible essence that reached beyond the apron of the stage.
There was a beauty about Chris Cornell.
Certainly there was physical beauty. Those piercing blue eyes alone were the things that made a dream much more pleasurable, but it was not his looks that drew me in.
It was that voice.
A profoundly gorgeous voice that expressed pain, passion, hope, anger, despair and love all in a single phrase.
A voice resonating in every corner of a theatre without accompaniment, fans leaning forward in their seats absorbing the tones.
A voice leading a band in a sold out stadium. Tens of thousands on their feet hands raised in the air, capturing each note.
That voice. Unforgettable. Undeniable. Uniquely beautiful in texture and torture.
He could take any song, treat it as his own, his version usually became one that ended up on my playlist. He tore my heart out because he laid it on the line every single time.
Charisma. Chris Cornell's photo should be next to this word in every dictionary. His presence on stage was mesmerizing. The first time I saw him perform live was in 1991. He walked on stage and there was no question in anyone's mind that what we were seeing was special. It was still early on the East Coast and the Seattle music wave was just barely making an impact, but was obvious Chris Cornell was a star.
Then, there are the lyrics.
They continue to haunt me. More so today than any other. They are not the songs of the love lorn. More love and life worn delivered with heartfelt agony. Devastating in their darkness with a resounding deep inner sadness. Or perhaps deep inner madness, since true artists live in their own reality to survive.
Think: Van Gogh.
Delving into the dark corners of mind and life experiences to expose it and share it with others is extremely dangerous. Ripping off the scar tissue to reveal the pulsing blood and tissues underneath the cover in order for someone else to see the damage that was done may not always be wise.
But that was what made his music and his performances so remarkable.
That is also why musicians and music fans alike are grieving. We are well aware of just how much we have lost.
But we are humbled and still grateful for the music he inspired, created, performed and left us.
R.I.P. Chris Cornell. God Speed.
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On a personal note:
Suicide has touched my life more than once. Most recently last September. One of my husband's closest friends that has maintained contact with me after Michael's death took his life. The ripple affect continues. His family is going through a horrible "year of firsts", all those first events and celebrations without him. And I keep wanting to pick up the phone and discuss politics with him because an intelligent level headed discussion and good dose of sarcasm is exactly what I crave.
In these days of being handed "lemons", the "lemonade" is the lesson. Reaching out. Looking for the signs. Most of all: being there to listen to those that are in pain. If you suspect someone is at risk, call for help.
If you know a family who lost someone through suicide, be kind. Listen, Don't offer advice-they've already heard it all and are beating themselves up. Offer hugs, offer prayers, offer kindness, offer love.
Here are some startling facts:
The annual age-adjusted suicide rate is 13.26 per 100,000 individuals.
Men die by suicide 3.5x more often than women.
On average, there are 121 suicides per day.
White males accounted for 7 of 10 suicides in 2015.
The rate of suicide is highest in middle age — white men in particular.
Suicide is the 10th leading cause of death in the U.S.
Each year 44,193 Americans die by suicide.
National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-TALK (8255).
The American Foundation for Suicide Prevention:
https://afsp.org/
If this is a harbinger of things to come, "Southern Blood" set to drop September 8th, will be remarkable. 
