MICHAEL Jackson and Farrah Fawcett were the icons of my youth. I grew up with Jackson, his music, and watched him transform.

“Charlie’s Angels” was my weekend TV staple, and beautiful, blonde Jill was my favorite.

My earliest memory of Jackson was the Jackson 5 Christmas album. His “The Little Drummer Boy” was, to the ears of a seven-year-old (me), the best in the world. When I finally made it to Motown as an adult in 2002, I was thrilled no end.

Jackson made Motown, made MTV, broke all racial barriers before Oprah or Barack Obama. Despite everything that has been hurled against him, his artistry is unparalleled.

“Thriller” is still the number one album of all time. Ironic, but from all accounts, he died alone in his rented home.

Something must have happened in Michael Jackson’s life that led him into a downward spiral. He seemed tormented and lonely.

In film clips, he was the happy child singing with his brothers. Through the years, there had been allegations of child abuse and a great degree of toxicity within his family. Perhaps it was this pain that motivated him, that propelled him to heights no other recording artist has ever achieved. This same pain seemed to have also pushed him to the depths.

In an interview with Larry King, Celine Dion said that maybe it was the lack of support from family or loved ones that drove Jackson to the brink.

Amid all that wealth, Jackson really had no one. There is much to learn from the life of the sad little boy who never wanted to grow up and was forever held captive by the sadness of his childhood.

Legacy

Farrah Fawcett shone brightest toward the end of her life. “Farrah’s Story,” a documentary she made with her best friend, Alana Stewart, will be her legacy.

Though many will always have that image of her as the bubbly, blonde Jill in “Charlie’s Angels,” her struggle with cancer, which she beautifully documented in “Farrah’s Story,” is a treasure she leaves behind for everyone, patient and caregiver alike, whose life has been touched by cancer.

In one part, she said what perhaps many cancer patients feel at the end of life: “Sometimes this disease makes me feel like a stranger to myself. Like a blonde nothingness. Alone, inside a body that once was mine but now has been damaged by chemo and radiation and all those drugs necessary for me to live. All those chemicals that are toxic and highly paralyzing, forcing me to experience intolerable suffering and pain I have never known. I miss my life.”

Her almost 30-year relationship with Ryan O’Neal also teaches us lessons about love and forgiveness. Although the two were never married, they exemplified true love and devotion.

Precious possession

Dr. Ira Byock, a specialist in hospice, palliative care and end-of-life issues, talks about what is most important when it comes to the end of life, in his book, “The Four Things that Matter.”

Byock says: “The specter of death reveals our relationships to be our most precious possessions. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve met people in my office, an emergency room, or a hospice program, who have expressed deep regret over things they wish they had said before a grandparent, parent, sibling or friend died. They can’t change what was, but without fail, their regrets have fueled a healthy resolve to say what needs to be said before it’s too late – to clear away hurt feelings, to connect in profound ways with the people who mean the most to them.”

These four simple statements, Byock relates, are: “Thank you,” “Please forgive me,” “I forgive you” and “I love you.”

I had the privilege of hearing Dr. Byock speak last April and was very much moved by his lecture. He told the audience: “I have taught hundreds of patients who were facing life’s end, when suffering can be profound, to say the Four Things. But the Four Things apply at any time. Comprising just eleven words, these four short sentences carry the core wisdom of what people who are dying have taught me about what matters most in life.”

Jackson and Fawcett’s lives remind us of the brevity of life, the importance of living and loving well, of forgiveness and kindness, and how we must never let a moment pass us by.
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Apologies to Angeline Baniqued. In my column “What makes a class valedictorian?” Baniqued was identified as valedictorian of St. Paul’s College Quezon City. Baniqued was St. Paul College Pasig’s class valedictorian. We regret the error.

E-mail the author at cathybabao@gmail.com