For Real?

Pretty much every day sees a celebrity die. Some are not so big, but I'd say one dies every day, more or less, and there's always someone I'm tied to who can muster some grief on their behalf. That bugs me. You might think I should be heartened by how people care about each other or something, but I'm not. I'm bugged by what seems like either false or at the very least wasted grief. I've complained about this before, but the frustration continues to develop anew all the time.

Yesterday Gabriel Garcia Marquez died. He's reputed to be one of history's greatest writers, but I wouldn't really know about that. I never have gotten through one of his books. I tried once, but made little headway before giving up. I should try again, because I'm sure I would make it this time, but the point is that he's meant nothing to my life personally, so I'm not going to undergo the horrible experience of mourning a death I don't need to.

Maybe he meant so much to other people that his death is legitimately moving to them. That's probably true. I guess that's fair. Someone of what I gather his caliber to be could manage that a little more easily than some of the celebrities of dubious accomplishments, so I guess I should be understanding when people are saddened. Particularly in his native Colombia and across Latin America, the grief is surely real and warranted.

Then there are others. I tend to be skeptical about how much some people experienced the likes of such an author. Do they have cause to be really broken up, or are they just looking to get upset or to seem upset, and the death of Marquez is what popped up on the calendar today? Maybe I'm wrong, and I won't deny that emotional expression is hard enough for me that I may just be biased against those who are good at it, but still I wonder.