When a Celebrity Dies, a Piece of Our Childhood Dies With Them
If someone were to ask you what celebrity death has hit you the hardest, what would you say? Depending on your age, you might say John Lennon. You might say Whitney Houston. You might say Michael Jackson. Robin Williams. Amy Winehouse. Carrie Fisher. The list goes on. People like them, people who make such an impact in their respective fields, often have such an impact on us––the consumers of their work, their loyal fans and followers. As people who grew up with a celebrity’s presence as a constant, we may find ourselves accustomed to that presence. Comforted by it. And when that presence disappears as soon as it once arrived, we feel that hole in our chest. We grieve as if they were ours, as if we truly knew them. As if a piece of us dies with them.
The only time I’ve ever really related to this experience was when Matthew Perry passed away in October 2023. As someone who grew up watching Friends, I grew up watching him. He was an omnipresent part of my life without me even realizing it. I laughed, I sympathized, I cringed, I rooted for Chandler Bing, and therefore for him, in some strange way. When I heard the news, I felt as though I had lost one of my friends. It was an unfamiliar feeling, for me to grieve someone I’d never met and who never knew I existed. Perhaps, to me, his death represented the reality of growing up––a carefree time in my life, staying awake until 1 am with my mom watching the show, that I would never get back.
Matthew Perry, from AP.
As we all know, Liam Payne of One Direction passed away on October 16th of this year. While I was very sad, both for him and those who knew and loved him, I realized that some were taking the news far, far more personally. I didn’t grow up with One Direction, so I didn’t grow up listening to their songs (besides their hits, of course––great, I just started humming “What Makes You Beautiful” for the fiftieth time this week, send help), watching their interviews, going to their concerts, buying their merchandise, or living the Directioner lifestyle. I didn’t grow up with Liam. But so many in my generation did, and seeing their devastating reactions and tributes on social media made me realize just how important he was to them. He was a friend, a family member, perhaps to those who were lacking such things in their own lives. His death, especially the shock and absolute tragedy of it, is genuinely traumatic to many. Losing him means losing a sense of innocence, a life before loss.
Parasociality is a fascinating concept to me, and it’s moments like these where I see the depths people feel for celebrities. When fans push the envelope of healthy boundaries, it can start to become a serious issue. But to me, this is different. While we’re not entitled to know everything about a famous person, no matter how much we “love” them, we are entitled to our personal feelings that come with the loss of said famous person. These feelings are often connected to real things in our lives, like memories, and therefore this loss can be real and tangible. It can plunge you into severe depression, just as with grieving someone like a friend. The pain isn’t necessarily lessened just because it’s someone you don’t actually know.
Liam Payne, from AFP via Getty Images.
We live in a world where we worship and idolize celebrities. They are ingrained in our culture, ingrained in our everyday lives no matter how much we try to avoid them. However, those who actively walk towards them rather than away often crave the kind of relationship they believe this celebrity can offer them. Comfort. A sense of belonging. A sense of community. A sense of home. Being touched by someone’s music, writing, or acting means being touched by the musician, writer, or actor themselves. Lines are blurred. Boundaries can be crossed. When does enjoying a famous person’s labor become enjoying a person? When does admiration become fanaticism and obsession?
All of this leads back to my point about how deaths such as Perry’s, such as Payne’s, affect us. Even if we don’t know much about an artist’s personal life but rather the TV show they’ve been in or the band they were part of, we know them through their work. We know them through our personal connection to that work. To some, a part of that work dies with that person, and they are unable to look at the work, which once brought them comfort or happiness, the same way. It’s now tinted by tragedy and reality.
Celebrities can undoubtedly save lives. I’ve seen many videos from people who say One Direction, for instance, is the reason they’re still alive. Maybe it’s the sense of community, or the messages in their songs, or how they relate to a certain band member. Whatever it is, these people are still here because of the band. And that’s heavy to think about, especially when someone from the band passes away in such awful circumstances, at such a young age. While I wasn’t that familiar with Payne, I always knew One Direction had, and has, an impact that doesn’t happen very often. I recognize not just its cultural impact, but its genuine influence on individuals.
Like us, celebrities aren’t perfect, and we shouldn’t try to erase or downplay their (sometimes many) faults when they pass away. However, we should recognize that their deaths are bigger than them. They were someone’s childhood. But please remember, they were also someone’s friend, partner, parent, sibling, and child. We can grieve the person we knew while respecting those who knew the person they really were.
It’s been a hard year for many of us. Let’s give each other the empathy and understanding we deserve.
