#mjart

Dear Michael,

it is hard to start this letter, and to put into words how much you mean to me. You passed away when I was very young, and I did not have the pleasure of growing up whilst your presence was still bright and alive on this Earth, and yet… like the glimmering tail of a passing meteor, like the star which has since burned out, but who’s light meets us years later and sets the sky ablaze, your absence meets me not in solemn darkness, but in warm, lingering, incandescent light. That’s what you were Michael. Incandescent. Never before have I seen a person so brimming with the very essence of hope and pure, undistilled humanity. You walked through a world that was often too harsh for a heart as soft as yours, you felt everything more deeply, gave more fiercely, and bled more openly than anyone else should have ever had to endure, and you still never lost your magic. To look at you is to see the absolute zenith of the human condition, wrapped in a fragile, mortal frame. To love each other like family, to look towards the boundless future and see something beautiful, to pour our hearts into the art we create, to hold hope between our teeth and never let go. That is what you taught us. To witness your life, even from the distance of years, is to remember what it means to be truly alive. You reminded us that our capacity to love is boundless, if only we are brave enough to let our hearts break for the world the way yours did. You are the proof that humanity can still be something sacred, in all its messy, complicated, beautiful glory. And you were just that. Messy, and complicated. And truly beautiful, even though you never truly believed it.

You lived under a microscope that magnified every flaw while ignoring the immense scope of your grace. The world tried so hard to reduce you to your fractures, to make you small, because it couldn't comprehend a heart that refused to build walls. They didn't see that your complications weren't a failure of your humanity, but the very proof of it. You were entirely human, Michael, and that is exactly why your light was so blinding. And you didn't really have to be perfect to be a saviour to a lonely child like me.

And a star doesn't have to be alive to guide you home.

Your broken pieces matched my broken pieces, and through your music, you showed me how to piece them together into something that could still soar in beautiful, dazzling colour. By showing us your wounds, you taught us how to be brave enough to show our own. And in that shared vulnerability, you did the impossible: you drew millions of strangers out of their isolation and forced us to look at one another.

Because of you, because of your music and the message you left behind, I found my people. I found a community of kindred spirits who see the world with the same fierce empathy that you did, people who truly see me, all because we were all looking up at the same beautiful, incandescent, lingering light you left behind. You reached back through time, took a lonely person by the hand, and placed me into a family. I guess that was always what you were best at.

The fire you started didn't go out when the world lost you, Michael. It is burning right here. It is alive in the bonds you forged between strangers. It is alive in every child who watches on of your short films for the first time. It is alive in every teenager you inspire to pursue their dreams. It is alive in every adult who listens to one of your songs and is reminded of the joy of their childhood, reminded of the joy your music brought them. And, it’s alive in me.

Because you didn't truly leave; you just decentralized your light, scattering it into millions of us so we could keep each other warm.

I wish I could say all of this to your face, hug you and tell you that you are not alone, that you changed my life. I’m angry and bitter that I never will. After all, I , like you, am only human. But, since I can’t do that, I’ll live with the same love for life that you did. I’ll embrace my humanity and passion, and I’ll love loudly.

So, here is my promise to you, written on the day the world changed forever: I will never let your fire go out. I will carry your incandescent light forward into tomorrow, guarding it fiercely against the cold. I will love without armor, hope without apology, and protect the family you built for us with everything I have. We will keep singing your songs, we will keep sharing your magic, and we will make sure the world never forgets the beautiful soul it was blessed with for a time.

Thank you for being my someone in the dark, Michael. I hope wherever you are, you’re finally at peace.

Until we meet under the light of that same burning star,

Yours always,