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If they say
Who cares if one more light goes out?
In a sky of a million stars
It flickers, flickers
Who cares when someone’s time runs out?
If a moment is all we are
We’re quicker, quicker
Seven days ago, I woke up in a dream. I was expected to accept something I didn’t want to believe. Even in this moment, this hour, this millisecond I can’t fathom how someone so far away could hurt me so close to home. Rewind to November of 2000. I was 9 years old listening to Hybrid Theory as it blasted from my shared room with my older sister. Coming up the stairs there was one voice in particular that caused an adolescent heart to respond with emotions unknown and unreached.
“Yeah, that dude’s Chester. Dude’s got pipes!” My sister went on to tell me. “That comes from pain. Like real pain, dude. You don’t know nothing’ ’bout that.”
True. I didn’t, but even at that age it hurt me hearing that someone could be as tormented as the voice I heard, taunted by demons undeserved, but imposed. Your voice triggered the deepest, darkest emotions within me, and ignited an energy that would lend itself to every aspect of my career – for the better. That connection was personal, and will remain so. It’s on an entirely different plane.
Your soul’s peace is the world’s sorrow. They’ll call you selfish, wrong, shameful, but none of this is true. Your life is your own and you remained strong and as true to yourself as you could manage in a judgement filled world. You were brave, kind, and extraordinary. You continued to fight to create masterpieces unique to you and your band.
From age 9 to age 26 I’ve spent many nights in reflection with your voice keeping me company. I imagine that will continue. As I wrote, you sang, you screamed, you shared, you helped. Thank you. We love you. Rest in serenity, Chester.
Who cares if one more light goes out?
Well I do
V.
