By Mary Anna Violi | @MaryAnnaVioli
One year ago today, on January 10, 2016, David Bowie slipped away from the world. Like his song Slip Away from his 2002 album, Heathen, the world awakened on the morning of January 11, 2016, to learn that he had died after enduring cancer for 18 months. Liver cancer, to be exact, a cancer with a less than rosy prognosis for the Rock Icon.
Oddly enough, David Bowie’s friend, Lou Reed, of Velvet Underground fame, succumbed to liver cancer after surgery in 2013. Bowie produced Reed’s landmark album, Transformer, in 1972. Mick Ronson, Bowie’s lead guitarist on the landmark The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars, 1972, also died of liver cancer in 1993. There is something unsettling about the idea that Bowie, Reed, and Ronson all died of liver cancer. Maybe it had to do with the copious amounts of alcohol and drugs they supposedly ingested in the 1970’s. Or perhaps the cancer was caused by a something else; I am neither physician, nor scientist, so I had best not hazard to guess.
All I know is that I am still heartbroken over David Bowie’s death. Having seen him in concert twice, once in 1983, in Houston, with his Serious Moonlight Tour, and again in Houston, in 1987, on his Glass Spider tour, I can only say that listening to Bowie’s music throughout a lot of his 50-year career proved transformative. Always inventive, always musically intriguing with his chord progressions, melodies, and lyrics, and always physically easy on the eyes, he fascinated me. Courageous and unendingly talented, he gave hope to those of us enthralled by his music to be brave, too, and follow our dreams.
His wife, Iman, posted a photo of New York City taken on the day her husband died last year. A double rainbow appeared in the sky that day. I like to think those rainbows walked David Bowie our Starman across the sky to his galaxy home.
Ciao for now.