David Bowie,
I know you don't know me, that would be awesome if you did, but I decided that I needed to write you a letter today. It might get kind of emotional, so you might want to have a box of Kleenex handy. You know, just in case. I'm going to have a couple, boxes I mean, in my lap while I write this, because I know that I'm going to need them.
So, here goes.
When I was little my family used to gather in the living room after dinner and Daddy would put in The Labyrinth, which was our all time favorite. I'd sit in his lap and little Becks would be falling asleep in Mommy's arms, but we kept her with us until the ending credits rolled around, and then we'd put her in her crib before I got tucked in, and Mommy would sing for me until I fell asleep. It was always one of your songs, and it tended to be Magic Dance. Because that song was our favorite.
And I'd go to sleep with visions of dancing goblins, annoying babies, stuck up little girls learning to be nicer, and adventures running along my eyelids. I'd always wake up with a smile on my face too. Because I knew that we'd watch the movie again that night, right after dinner - With our over salted popcorn and way too sweet iced tea. (That's what happens when you let a toddler aged kid help, I suppose.)
This went on for as long as I could remember. Hell, my earliest memories are of you walking upside-down on the stairs. But, when I turned six, it changed. Suddenly it was just me and Mommy watching you. Daddy would be working late, and Mommy was too tired to deal with Becks. So we'd lay together on the couch and watch the movie, just the two of us. No more popcorn. No more tea. No more family time to laugh and sing together. I had no clue what was going on, and I didn't like it, but I learned to deal.
And then we stopped watching you altogether. I was too short to put you in and watch you by myself, not that I would want to either. It wouldn't be the same.
And then came the fight that ending with Daddy taking Becks and leaving us. For good. He was just going to spend a couple of nights with Grammy and Papa. Just until things calmed down. He left me because I was a big boy and would have to help Mommy calm down. He was supposed to come back, but then a drunk driver took them from us.
That night, Mommy and I watched your movie three times in a row, way later than I've ever stayed up before, and I didn't understand. She wouldn't tell me what was going on, and she was sobbing the entire time. So, of course I started crying too. After the third time, she told me what had happened, and I screamed. She had to be lying to me. She had too. I hit play to watch the movie a fourth time, but we only got to the part where the dog got sent to the garage before passing out, crying and clinging to each other, as if we'd get taken away too.
After that, it was a long while before I watched the movie again. I think I was thirteen when I put it in, for old times sake. I watched it all night long, bawling and voice cracking when I tried to sing along. I watched it over and over. All night long. Hell. All weekend long, I was locked in my room, just watching The Labyrinth and remembering the good times.
While we still had Daddy and Becks, and Mommy still had time for me. Before she started smoking and drinking and turning to strangers - Most of whom looked like Daddy.
David Bowie, you were a huge part of my life. And, you still are. You always will be.
I just wanted to say thank you, and that I love you.
-Kyle
