But I'm not without my regrets when it comes to saying goodbye.
Wasn't all that long ago, though, that I realized my sadness wasn't always on the same frequency as others.
That particular tuning just ahead.
Richie Havens, a Brooklyn-born folk singer whose husky voice, open-tuned guitar and pointed protest hymns welcomed the hippy masses to Max Yasgur's farm at the original Woodstock, died suddenly at his home on Monday of a heart attack. He was 72.
Also known for his soulful covers of pop and folk songs, including Beatles classics "Here Comes the Sun" and "Strawberry Fields Forever," Havens toured and recorded music for over 40 years before retiring from the road three years ago.
"While his family greatly appreciates that Richie's many fans are also mourning this loss, they do ask for privacy during this difficult time," a statement reads from a representative.
A public memorial will be planned for a later date
More than once, I've observed, out loud and in print, that I'm intrigued by the paradox of our typical reaction to the passing of a fellow traveler.
If, as we all seem to profess in one form of theology or another, a better, happier, more fulfilling place awaits us, then it seems the expressions of loss that come pouring out of us when someone dies are a contradiction.
Should we not, in fact, be filled with joy that someone we love and/or respect and/or admire has moved on to that better, happier, more fullfilling place?
The Irish seem to get it.
The format of a traditional wake is nothing less than a full throated celebration of both the life which has just ended and the departure of our loved one to that better, happier, etc.
Testimonials will, undoubtedly and certainly deservedly, flow pretty freely for the next day or two on behalf of Richie Havens. And many more than the majority of those will be, undoubtedly, accompanied by expresssions of sadness, loss, pain., even a little wailing and weeping among those whose hearts tend to be less easily found just behind their shirt pockets than they are on their sleeves.
As for me, I'm appreciative of the gifts that Richie Havens was given and his own gift of sharing them with me for such a long time.
And I'm not just a little envious that he as moved on to the aforementioned fulfillment.
But, I'm not without feeling.
And I do feel a little sadness.
If only because Richie Havens was a bright, shining, authentic celebrity jewel.
And so much of what remains to replace him is so very clearly, and sadly, costume.
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