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chanter1944Be forewarned: Below, there will be mourning and backstory from my formative years, all tangled up together. It is intensely personal and quite revealing. If you'd rather skip it, I won't object.
When I was growing up, there was one quintessential love story for the ages, one romance by which all others were measured. That standard is obviously going to differ from person to person; ask some kids and they might say Cinderella and Prince Charming, others, maybe Gomez and Morticia Adams, or June Carter and Johnny Cash, or maybe no one at all. For me, it was Céline Dion and René Angélil.
She's been a hero of mine since I was eight or nine and just starting to learn what the top 40 charts were. This likely explains quite a lot about tiny me, about tweenage me (for anyone reading this who knew her), and about the woman I became. I won't elaborate on that now; that's for another post, and one I hopefully won't need to write for several decades. I'll just reiterate that as love stories go, it's always been Céline et René.
Today, I learned that after a long illness, René died. Cancer is evil, plain, simple and unmitigated evil. I know he survived it once, with her supporting him straight down the line. He may have lost his second battle, but as far as I'm concerned, those two are forever.
Not only that, but poor Céline. She's lost her husband, and now, two days later, her brother, to the same illness. Did I mention cancer's status as unmitigated evil?
Oh, Céline. Tonight, I ache for you. Tonight, my heart breaks for a childhood idol who never lost my respect. You hold sway over me even today, two decades on from sunlit mornings daydreaming in the living room, afternoons in the grass both alone and giggling with musically-minded friends, and icy nights lying beside a battered radio. Your story still enchants me. You still enchant me - heck, even today, mention of Liette, her ending, and your part in it makes me both mentally wince and contend with a surge of renewed awe over you. You and yours are pillars of my formative years, and nothing has shaken that status yet. I hope nothing ever does.
I'd say some or all of this in proper Canadian French, if my knowledge of the language were anything to speak of. I only wish it were. Tonight, Céline Dion, I grieve for you, for your family, and for your son, your child with René.
Edited to add, on January 22: I grieve for you, your family, and your children, and how I didn't know that was plural before now... A national funeral is no less than René deserves. I'm in tears again, literally crying. Oh, René. Oh, Céline. You are forever, the two of you. You and yours are forever.
I called my mother with the news today, after I heard. I thought she was kidding when she said she was sorry for my loss, then found out she wasn't. Thanks, Mom. I underestimated you there, and I'm sorry. Mine is nothing, *nothing*, by comparison, but... yes, it is a loss, and it aches.
When I was growing up, there was one quintessential love story for the ages, one romance by which all others were measured. That standard is obviously going to differ from person to person; ask some kids and they might say Cinderella and Prince Charming, others, maybe Gomez and Morticia Adams, or June Carter and Johnny Cash, or maybe no one at all. For me, it was Céline Dion and René Angélil.
She's been a hero of mine since I was eight or nine and just starting to learn what the top 40 charts were. This likely explains quite a lot about tiny me, about tweenage me (for anyone reading this who knew her), and about the woman I became. I won't elaborate on that now; that's for another post, and one I hopefully won't need to write for several decades. I'll just reiterate that as love stories go, it's always been Céline et René.
Today, I learned that after a long illness, René died. Cancer is evil, plain, simple and unmitigated evil. I know he survived it once, with her supporting him straight down the line. He may have lost his second battle, but as far as I'm concerned, those two are forever.
Not only that, but poor Céline. She's lost her husband, and now, two days later, her brother, to the same illness. Did I mention cancer's status as unmitigated evil?
Oh, Céline. Tonight, I ache for you. Tonight, my heart breaks for a childhood idol who never lost my respect. You hold sway over me even today, two decades on from sunlit mornings daydreaming in the living room, afternoons in the grass both alone and giggling with musically-minded friends, and icy nights lying beside a battered radio. Your story still enchants me. You still enchant me - heck, even today, mention of Liette, her ending, and your part in it makes me both mentally wince and contend with a surge of renewed awe over you. You and yours are pillars of my formative years, and nothing has shaken that status yet. I hope nothing ever does.
I'd say some or all of this in proper Canadian French, if my knowledge of the language were anything to speak of. I only wish it were. Tonight, Céline Dion, I grieve for you, for your family, and for your son, your child with René.
Edited to add, on January 22: I grieve for you, your family, and your children, and how I didn't know that was plural before now... A national funeral is no less than René deserves. I'm in tears again, literally crying. Oh, René. Oh, Céline. You are forever, the two of you. You and yours are forever.
I called my mother with the news today, after I heard. I thought she was kidding when she said she was sorry for my loss, then found out she wasn't. Thanks, Mom. I underestimated you there, and I'm sorry. Mine is nothing, *nothing*, by comparison, but... yes, it is a loss, and it aches.
