Hey Kell,
I don't really know where to start this letter, for some reason I just felt the urge to write to you. To tell you the truth, I wrote this letter out quite a few months ago, but hestitated sending it, for I don't know what reasons, but after reading the Vincent Lovegrove autobiography on Michael, I just felt it was somethign I had to do. I guess the way part to start at is saying how grateful I am that your son Michael Hutchence grew up to be who he was, and I s'pose that you played a big part in that. He was a true talent and that's the main reason I decided to write to you. I've been blown away by his posthumous album since I got it on the first day of release on 11th of October 1999. I've now set out to collect teh entire back catalouge of INXS albums, as I'd previously only owned Elegantly Wasted.
I can only begin to imagine what you and your family had to go through at the time of your son's death. Having to go through the grieving process in te public eye, and all the rumours and specualtion that followed. It seems after two years Michael has still not been able to rest in peace.
In a way, to me 1997 was a year of death. Both worldwide and closer to home for me. I was only 15 when I first had to deal with death that year (and EVER) I'd never lost anyone close to me before, and at eh beginning of 1997, my cousin who was only 6 months younger than me passed away. Then there was the death of Princess Diana and Mother Theresa, which was followed by the death of a fried who was a year younger than me. And then there was the untimely death of Michael, which was just over a month after my 16th birthday.
And it seesm that four out of five of these deaths were premature, they'd not lived half the life you'd expected them too. So there were a lot of questions left unanswered surrounding their deaths. But the difference between my two close deaths and Michael's and Diana's, was that these questions were asked publicly, which I can only imagine how much it upset the families involved. Being bombarded with rumours and lies, denying you and your family the right to privacy, and the chance to mourn alone. And even if these questions were answered, what would it have done? Nothing, it's not as if they could have miraculously been bouhgt back to life. I admit when I first heard of Michael's death, I was upset and wanted to know why, but then with the hoopla surrounding his death reminded me of the first death I'd ever experienced. My cousin, died in her sleep one night. No one knew how. She was living with her dad at the time, and the night before she'd talked to her mum and how she was gonna move in with her and looking forward to it. Teh next mrning she was dead. Living in a small town at teh time, the rumour mill spun into over drive. Comments about suicide were made public, amongst other rumours of drugs. At first when I heard I denied it, telling myself that it wasn't her, it was another girl they'd found, that she'd walk through the door and wonder what all the fuss was about, it wasn't her, it couldn't be. This didn't help, neither did the questions I'd ask myself about why it had happened. And despite the fact that an autopsy was preformed, and they'd have an idea on how she died, I've never found out teh results of it, never wanted to know, never will. I s'pose that's the way it's meant to be with deaths liek that, you can never know what REALLY happened. Even if I had the chance to find out how she died, or Michael even, I doubt I'd want to know, no matter how much I loved them, and how curious I am. I don't believe it'd give me any comfort. Does all this make sense to you? I don't seem to be abel to put into words what I really want to tell you, what I'm feeling inside. I had it in my head, exactlly how I wanted to say all this, but when it comes to putting it down on paper, it just doesn't seem to come out. I really just wanted to say I kinda understand what you musta gone through, with an untimely death, the questions you wanted answered (that could never really be found) the lies and rumours you had to hear, trying to mourn the loss of a loved one at the same time, someone you saw as having such a zest for life, with so much to love for, just gone.
After reading Vincent Lovegrove's book, I sat and thought, what would have happened if Michael hadn't broke his arm, had he continued to swim? Perhaps he'd be representing Australia at the Olympics and never have gotten into the music buisness and the whole drug scnece and caught up in the Paula Yates fiasco, and he'd still be here. But then I'd never have truly admired him for the reasons I do, and that's a lot of IFs so I won't dwell on that. And I'm sure he enjoyed the life he did lead, dispite everything. Anyway, what I'm getting at is, when I heard about my cousin's death, I too thought about a lot of IFs and I can't seem to determine if it helpedme or not, I do't think it did, what it did do though, was made me remember some of the good times we had. And I think that's the best thing to do, what helps teh most is, reliving those good times. Here's a quote I heard you might like:
“Course I'll miss them, but missing someone is better than not missing any one at all, isn't it............. I've got this theory,........... when you start spending more time reliving something than you actually did living it in the first place, you make it timeless, you can make it last forever, even make it better than it was the first time”
And so that's what I do, both with my cousin and Michael's memory. I like to look at old pictures, read articles, listen to his music. Some times I begin to forget he's even gone. I was listening to Michael's solo album one day, when I first got it, and I remember thinking to myself, 'this is really good, I can't wait to hear what these songs sound live in concert.' It was just so strange, I musta got so caught up in the music, I'd forgotten about the rest, and it took me a while to realise I'd never see Michael Hutchence in concert.
But through the work he's left behind, I do believe his memory will continue to live on, and so long as we have this, he'll always be in our hearts.
Another weird thing is, Monique had a book of poetry, adn some of teh stuff we read of it was really good, and gave an insight into what she musta been feeling, however, her words will always be a reminder of the perso she was, the person I'll always remember.
Anyway, I truly wish I could have expressed myself better, really told you what I wanted to say, I guess some things just can't be expressed in word . I hope you read this one day, and I hope you can see what I'm trying to say, and know what it meant to me, to listen to your sons's music, how much it touched me, how much I admired him, how much he's missed.
I've been stuck on this last paragraph for some time now, I guess I'll just leave it at that, and hope you understand. This letter, what I hoped form it, was comfort I guess. Comfort by sharing a story with someone who's gone through similar things, comfort for you in your loss, and comfort for me by sharing this with you, which will hopefully make things easier eventually.
See ya,
>MITCH
I don't really know where to start this letter, for some reason I just felt the urge to write to you. To tell you the truth, I wrote this letter out quite a few months ago, but hestitated sending it, for I don't know what reasons, but after reading the Vincent Lovegrove autobiography on Michael, I just felt it was somethign I had to do. I guess the way part to start at is saying how grateful I am that your son Michael Hutchence grew up to be who he was, and I s'pose that you played a big part in that. He was a true talent and that's the main reason I decided to write to you. I've been blown away by his posthumous album since I got it on the first day of release on 11th of October 1999. I've now set out to collect teh entire back catalouge of INXS albums, as I'd previously only owned Elegantly Wasted.
I can only begin to imagine what you and your family had to go through at the time of your son's death. Having to go through the grieving process in te public eye, and all the rumours and specualtion that followed. It seems after two years Michael has still not been able to rest in peace.
In a way, to me 1997 was a year of death. Both worldwide and closer to home for me. I was only 15 when I first had to deal with death that year (and EVER) I'd never lost anyone close to me before, and at eh beginning of 1997, my cousin who was only 6 months younger than me passed away. Then there was the death of Princess Diana and Mother Theresa, which was followed by the death of a fried who was a year younger than me. And then there was the untimely death of Michael, which was just over a month after my 16th birthday.
And it seesm that four out of five of these deaths were premature, they'd not lived half the life you'd expected them too. So there were a lot of questions left unanswered surrounding their deaths. But the difference between my two close deaths and Michael's and Diana's, was that these questions were asked publicly, which I can only imagine how much it upset the families involved. Being bombarded with rumours and lies, denying you and your family the right to privacy, and the chance to mourn alone. And even if these questions were answered, what would it have done? Nothing, it's not as if they could have miraculously been bouhgt back to life. I admit when I first heard of Michael's death, I was upset and wanted to know why, but then with the hoopla surrounding his death reminded me of the first death I'd ever experienced. My cousin, died in her sleep one night. No one knew how. She was living with her dad at the time, and the night before she'd talked to her mum and how she was gonna move in with her and looking forward to it. Teh next mrning she was dead. Living in a small town at teh time, the rumour mill spun into over drive. Comments about suicide were made public, amongst other rumours of drugs. At first when I heard I denied it, telling myself that it wasn't her, it was another girl they'd found, that she'd walk through the door and wonder what all the fuss was about, it wasn't her, it couldn't be. This didn't help, neither did the questions I'd ask myself about why it had happened. And despite the fact that an autopsy was preformed, and they'd have an idea on how she died, I've never found out teh results of it, never wanted to know, never will. I s'pose that's the way it's meant to be with deaths liek that, you can never know what REALLY happened. Even if I had the chance to find out how she died, or Michael even, I doubt I'd want to know, no matter how much I loved them, and how curious I am. I don't believe it'd give me any comfort. Does all this make sense to you? I don't seem to be abel to put into words what I really want to tell you, what I'm feeling inside. I had it in my head, exactlly how I wanted to say all this, but when it comes to putting it down on paper, it just doesn't seem to come out. I really just wanted to say I kinda understand what you musta gone through, with an untimely death, the questions you wanted answered (that could never really be found) the lies and rumours you had to hear, trying to mourn the loss of a loved one at the same time, someone you saw as having such a zest for life, with so much to love for, just gone.
After reading Vincent Lovegrove's book, I sat and thought, what would have happened if Michael hadn't broke his arm, had he continued to swim? Perhaps he'd be representing Australia at the Olympics and never have gotten into the music buisness and the whole drug scnece and caught up in the Paula Yates fiasco, and he'd still be here. But then I'd never have truly admired him for the reasons I do, and that's a lot of IFs so I won't dwell on that. And I'm sure he enjoyed the life he did lead, dispite everything. Anyway, what I'm getting at is, when I heard about my cousin's death, I too thought about a lot of IFs and I can't seem to determine if it helpedme or not, I do't think it did, what it did do though, was made me remember some of the good times we had. And I think that's the best thing to do, what helps teh most is, reliving those good times. Here's a quote I heard you might like:
“Course I'll miss them, but missing someone is better than not missing any one at all, isn't it............. I've got this theory,........... when you start spending more time reliving something than you actually did living it in the first place, you make it timeless, you can make it last forever, even make it better than it was the first time”
And so that's what I do, both with my cousin and Michael's memory. I like to look at old pictures, read articles, listen to his music. Some times I begin to forget he's even gone. I was listening to Michael's solo album one day, when I first got it, and I remember thinking to myself, 'this is really good, I can't wait to hear what these songs sound live in concert.' It was just so strange, I musta got so caught up in the music, I'd forgotten about the rest, and it took me a while to realise I'd never see Michael Hutchence in concert.
But through the work he's left behind, I do believe his memory will continue to live on, and so long as we have this, he'll always be in our hearts.
Another weird thing is, Monique had a book of poetry, adn some of teh stuff we read of it was really good, and gave an insight into what she musta been feeling, however, her words will always be a reminder of the perso she was, the person I'll always remember.
Anyway, I truly wish I could have expressed myself better, really told you what I wanted to say, I guess some things just can't be expressed in word . I hope you read this one day, and I hope you can see what I'm trying to say, and know what it meant to me, to listen to your sons's music, how much it touched me, how much I admired him, how much he's missed.
I've been stuck on this last paragraph for some time now, I guess I'll just leave it at that, and hope you understand. This letter, what I hoped form it, was comfort I guess. Comfort by sharing a story with someone who's gone through similar things, comfort for you in your loss, and comfort for me by sharing this with you, which will hopefully make things easier eventually.
See ya,
>MITCH