She gave the world so much more than her symphonious voice — she gave the world color, hope, and life.
Near the end of Whitney’s last song, I marveled as I had forgotten about the pain, the drugs, and the questions about her sexuality, the accusations, the death threats, the stalking, the miscarriages, and the icy cold depression. I forgot how painful it was to be Whitney Houston.
She sang her song, and in some strange way it felt like she was singing her troubles over.
We’d all heard Whitney’s 2009 declaration, “I was not meant to break,” but we got to see the triumph with our own eyes, that night. The Whitney that stood before the packed crowd in Hollywood, less than two days before her untimely death, was vibrant, unequivocally beautiful, and stronger than ever.
She was strong for us.
That night I told Whitney, “I love you … I’ve always loved you,” and in many ways, I spoke for all of us who grew up watching the AT&T Your True Voice commercial. I spoke for those of us who stared wide-eyed at the TV screen to see her pulverize the National Anthem. I spoke for those who would never get the chance to.
Whitney’s last song was more than an ironic happenstance. She sang her last song for Kelly and Faith, Bobbi Kristina, Cissy, her family, colleagues, haters, her fans, and all of the people she’d touched throughout her 48 years.
She sang for me … and that was enough to remember the Whitney Houston that reshaped our culture, our spirits, and our lives.
Her last song was sung with dignity, pride, hope, and above all these things — love.
God bless you, Whitney.