I remember Andrea being so distraught, both of us being so shook at the news of his death. It’s such an odd phenomenon, being shook up at a popular figure’s death, and then being dead yourself 9 months later.
If you haven’t read this before, this is a good, funny story:
A couple of her friends and I were in the parking lot of a firefighter’s hall where her memorial was to take place. Scouting mission. Everybody’s in shock, trying to function. Trying to keep things light, as strange as that is.
I said, “How do we know that we’re the only one for our mates, in terms of heaven? I mean, imagine offing yourself to join your loved one, only to find them up there with someone else.” And one of the friends said, “Yeah, she’d be with Bowie.” The other one agreed.
I summed it up, after a drag on a cigarette. “Yeah, I’d kill myself, and there would be this kinda Sound of Music running-through-the-fields to reunite with her. I’d go over a hill, and there would be Andrea – in a white, billowy bed with David Bowie. And she’d have this look of dismay… “Oh, no. You didn’t. You silly little man.”
(I couldn’t say that this was Bowie’s defining moment, but I’ll argue that this was the pinnacle of his career. Certainly, if you’ve had a lover who was a life-or-death ally, you might appreciate this song a bit more)
