Mourning an artist like Bowie completely natural, counselor says

For millions of music fans, the death of David Bowie earlier this week evoked feelings of loss similar to those they may have felt when a parent, family member or close friend died.

Shock. Disbelief. Sadness. All came to the fore when the world learned Sunday of Bowie's death from cancer at the age of 69.

It might seem surprising that the emotional pain caused by the death of a favorite musician, singer, actor, writer or artist — someone whom we admire but don't actually know — can be so acute. But if you found yourself mourning Bowie, take heart.

It's completely natural and, maybe, a testament to the power of Bowie's music.

"These are soul connections," explains Ron Lawrence, founder and clinical supervisor of Community Counseling Center of Southern Nevada. "These are connections that radiate into the deepest part of ourselves and they are (evoking) feelings in all of us that we can identify with."

We may never meet the artist whose work touched us. Yet, somehow, the work prompts us to forge that connection and "feel that sense of camaraderie with them," Lawrence says.

"Basically, these individuals have deep and real meaning in our lives, and when they pass away, there's really a valid sense of grief and loss."

An artist and and his or her work also can speak to us so vividly because they represent or remind us of a specific time in our lives.

"It's about a place in time for us, when they first arrived into our lives," Lawrence says. "It's about our experience in that place in time."

An artist's work — a song, a movie, a book — becomes "part of our memory and, as a symbol, it's laced through those times for our lives," Lawrence says. "And when we lose a person, we lose the symbolism of what was created and of that time in our lives.

The death of a favorite artist can affect us in a particularly emotional way because it's artists' job to express themselves through their art. So, in a way, "we do know them," Lawrence says, because "they try to touch those places inside of us."

So, when an artist whose work touches us and who we think we've come to know dies, "people go into an actual grieving process," Lawrence says.

"I remember the day John Lennon died. Oh my god, I was working in an engineering office, and I had men and women crying because of the way he touched people."

Another reason the death of a favorite artist saddens us: After having enjoyed their presence in our lives, we have to accept the sad reality that we'll experience no new work from them again.

It's about "the loss of the future," Lawrence says. "What we expected is that John Lennon, for instance ... was going to go on and on, and unconsciously we have visions of these people accompanying us into old age, and what happens is, we have to grieve that, because we know they're not going to be there anymore."

Ultimately, there comes, perhaps, not acceptance, but resignation, Lawrence says. "You resign yourself to the fact (of a loved one's death) and it becomes a process to get through. We may have little flashes of grief now and then, and we're finally able to get to the point where we resign yourself that our hero or heroine is not there."

While the death of an artistic hero may not feel as acute as, say, the death of a parent, it at least can be akin to, say, "a distant cousin," Lawrence says. "You admire the cousin and don't see them a whole lot, but at the same time when you find out they're gone, what happens is you grieve the anticipation that you might not see them or be with them again."

Participating in meaningful rituals can help to ease the pain, Lawrence says. "We have to listen to a song one more time, or revisit their sayings or light a candle."

Then, Lawrence adds, understand that grief is not an event but, rather, "a process. We're not going to get past the grief overnight."

Read more from John Przybys at reviewjournal.com. Contact him at jprzybys@reviewjournal.com and follow @JJPrzybys on Twitter.