2016 is already a bad year, and it's not even May yet.
Prince, music legend and magnificent weirdo, died last Thursday at the age of 57. His tragic death represents a tremendous loss to the musical community, and his family, friends, and fans are shaken and grieving.
Death is never, ever fair: everyone dies, almost always too soon, and the living bear the weight of the loss. But the death of a beloved celebrity is particularly painful, affecting millions of people across the planet.
The depth of grief can be shocking. I'm sure we've all felt this: someone on the Internet tells you someone you've never met has died and you unexpectedly collapse, watching YouTube homages all day while eating ice cream on a couch of bone-deep sorrow. Maybe you saw them once at a concert, separated by a stage, but your lips in lyric synchronicity. Or you made accidental eye contact with them in an LA diner. Maybe you sought out their performance in a bizarre cult-classic sci-fi movie to soothe the ache of a breakup. These people didn't know you, but they told you something about yourself. They were perfect, and never quite real, and you never quite believed they could -- and would, in fact, have to -- one day -- die.
But they do. And in ill-fated 2016, it seems like they just can't catch a break.
Even while writing this article, I saw a BBC news alert appear on my phone: "Papa Wemba, Congo music star, dies after stage collapse." Another one gone. Many comments about Prince's death have echoed the loss of another music legend, David Bowie, earlier this year. Alan Rickman, better known to some as Severus Snape, passed away in January, taking a piece of everyone's childhood with him. Natalie Cole, Glenn Frey, Maurice White, Harper Lee, George Martin, Patty Duke, the guy who voiced the uncannily attractive fox in Disney's "Robin Hood..." all died within the first four months of 2016. According to the BBC, there's been a five-fold increase in celebrity obituaries used per month since 2012. A pattern is forming.
So what the actual hell is going on?
Turns out there's a simple explanation: baby boomers.
"Many of those now dying belonged to the so-called baby-boom generation, born between 1946 and 1964, that saw a huge growth in population. In the US, for example, the census bureau said that 76 million people in 2014 belonged to the baby boomer generation - some 23 percent of the population.
With more babies born into the baby-boom generation, it meant more went on to eventually become famous.
Now, those famous former babies, aged between 70 and 52, are dying."
On top of that, with social media to instantly communicate news, post reactions, and help us form communities of grief, we notice celebrity deaths more than ever before.
It seems as though the number of our favorite musicians, actors, writers, and other celebrities who pass on will keep increasing. 2016 probably isn't an anomaly -- it's more likely the new norm.
But as we feel the tragedy of each new loss, we can remember why we're grieving. Honor them by remember what gifts that person gave the world.
So I'm going to listen to "Purple Rain" this weekend, and really, really listen.
I encourage you to do the same.
