Getting older and the "letting go" part of dying...

First, I apologize for yet one more reminder of Michael Jackson's death. It's hard to avoid as every news/media outlet is focusing on his life, career and death. But I'm asking you to humor me...
I graduated High School in 1985. Thriller came out in 1982. MTV was just starting to really take off and they were still actually "music" television and not the bizarre stuff they have on there now. It was SO cool to actually SEE the artists perform without having to go to a concert! We really thought we were living in such progressive times! (Little did we know that the birth of the Internet and the computer age would be just around the corner!)
"Thriller" was just an amazing album. There weren't too many of us teenagers who didn't have the album and I sure don't remember anyone "dissing" it. I really think it was the start of a great era of music. I remember staying over at a girlfriends house on Friday nights getting ready for a school dance and listening to the album over and over.
For me, it's perhaps more about the end of an era that holds so many good memories than it is about the death itself.
Getting older has held lots of good things for me. Grandchildren top the list, finally being at a place in our life to be able to purchase our Harley and LOVING the time that BSP (Big Stud Penguin a.k.a. the hubby) and I have together on the motorcycle, seeing my daughters become women and making their own way in life, etc..
But then there are those things about getting older that just plain stink. Aches and pains in parts of my body I didn't even know I had and speaking of the body...HOLY CAT SCRATCH BATMAN! No one ever warns you about the aging process there!! These days I just scuttle away from any view in the mirror and let's face it, it was never all that good in the first place! I used to be able to load up three very little girls and travel half-way across the Country and not bat an eyelash. I still like to "road trip" but I don't bound out of the vehicle like I used to and I'm pretty darn sure my hips creak as I'm trying to launch myself out of the car.
And finally, I hate, hate, hate death. Ok, I never liked death and when my grandfather died, my first real encounter with death, (I was a Senior in High School) I thought my heart would break but now it affects me differently. It's not just the broken heart that the death brings but the realization that another "end" is occuring.
So Michael Jackson, in the words of Frank Sinatra, "thanks for the memories". I never understood the bizarre man you became in your later life but for that small moment in time, you really rocked my world. Rest in Peace.