Don McLean wrote this song for Vincent Van Gogh back in 1971. It’s beautiful. I’ve heard it a gazillion times in my life, but after Chris died, I heard it again, and it became new. Mr. McLean could have written it for him. Every word.
It makes me sad, but it also makes me feel better in a way. This morning, I was feeling pretty awful about the unfairness of it all, that he didn’t get the simple things he wanted out of life, that he lived with a hole in him he couldn’t fill. But Chris also lived a life of amazing beauty, understanding, and appreciation for things most of us never will. That’s something. That’s really something.