19Oct24
No matter how mad the word made us, It always held hope ā a āhiatus.ā
Iām sad for so many reasons ā the fundamental sadness of death, and at such a young age; having to process the mortality of someone so extraordinary it seems they should transcend a fate as ordinary as dying; aching for his family and friends; angry that he had to navigate such a cruel world, one that continues to disrespect him in death. Yes, Liam was damaged and in turn damaged others; he had demons to face and amends to make ā I like to think he would have, given a chance. His talent was so immense, and there was so much more to come. I believe he would have found a way to redemption, and then had such a beautiful renaissance.
The joy of being a 1D fan has always been policed and mocked. Weāve so frequently been laughed at, dismissed for the intensity of our love for the band. And now, the world wants to do the same with our grief, questioning its legitimacy, trivializing our feelings. But this loss is real. And this grief is valid.
And the grief of losing Liam is compounded by the grief of losing so much else. He wasnāt just a celebrity. They werenāt just a boyband. He was an integral part of an integral part of our formative years ā no matter how old we were when we found them. So many of us are the people we are in part because of the people they are. Were. Weāve lost a beloved one, weāve lost innocence, weāve lost inspiration, weāve lost a piece of our foundation.
Weāve lost hope.
It used to frustrate me, in retrospect, that they called it a āhiatus.ā It felt dishonest ā like a gentle lie to let us down easy. Why couldnāt they just say it was over? That being a boy band has a built-in shelf life, and it was time to explore solo careers. But now I understand the kindness in that word. For hope springs eternal, and it didnāt matter if it never came. All that matters was that it might. And āhiatusā wasnāt just for us; it held their optimism too. Especially Liamās. It left the door open, even if only a crack, for the possibility of something more.
Itās been a remarkable gift to watch each one find his own path and his own voice. But when they announced a hiatus in 2015, they planted a seed of hope that someday weād see the unrivaled magic of those boys on stage together again ā the greatest team the world has ever seen. Maybe Zayn would join, probably not. Maybe it wouldāve been a one-off thing for charity or a special anniversary. Maybe it would be in their 50s when the allure of easy money from a reunion tour was too tempting to resist. But surely, eventually, 1D would reunite in some capacity. I was excited to see how their once frenetic energy and youthful antics would meld with the mature solo artists theyāve become.
That hope sustained us through 18 months and eventually eight years, but now the hiatus is over. I would have happily clowned for every remaining day of my life than know this new certainty brought by the finality of Liamās death. Maybe, someday, there will be a memorial performance. Maybe weāll see three or four out of five come together to honor him ā and what a poignant testament it will be that Liam was what could bring them together. Or maybe it will never feel right to them to take the stage without him, and that, too, will make all the sense in the world.
I wish I had an uplifting ending for this post. I donāt. I wake up and my first thought is āLiam isnāt here anymore,ā and then I go about my day with that relentless realization lurking around the corner of every mundane task I do.
I havenāt been able to listen to their music yet. Itās a cruel trick that the thing that always brought comfort is now a trigger for grief. But I hope that will soon change. That, at some point, Iāll put on WMYB, get choked up at āYouāre insecureā and second-guess my readiness. But then jump to History, and find solace in the lyrics that are currently rattling around my brain but arenāt ready to be heard yet: āThis is not the end, this is not the endā ā¦ āWe can live forever.ā
āÆāÆāÆāÆ
