This morning at five in the morning, I opened my browser to my usual news pages to catch up with what happened in the world while I was asleep.
I saw your beautiful face with a half grin toward the camera. Then, I read ‘Chris Cornell, dead at 52’. I’ll admit, I let out a scream. Then I cried. Genuine tears of pain for a man that soothed my teenage years with angsty music, brilliant lyrics, and amazing stage presence.
For the last twenty-five years, you’ve been present in my life through your music. I can’t believe I’ll never hear anything new from that amazing mind of yours.
A few hours later, I found out that you committed suicide in the late hours of the night. What happened, Chris? What was so dark in your life that you couldn’t see the light anymore? Couldn’t your wife help? Your children? Your bandmates?
There were so many options that you could’ve reached out to get help. But in your state of mind, it might have been too hard for you. Without making a pun, that black hole might have been too deep for you to crawl out of to reach out. And I’m so sorry it came to that for you.
I’m writing this with tears in my eyes. I’ve known this kind of pain, the one where you think you’re drowning in your pain, screaming to crawl out of your own skin. I’ve made the move to end it once and stopped myself. I’ve thought about it many times after that as well. I wish someone had seen this pain in you and helped you.
You’ll be missed, Chris, more than you’ll ever know. I hope that wherever you are, you have found the peace you couldn’t find in this life.
To anyone in need of help, reach out now!