Let’s come together to celebrate his life and share what he meant to us. Whether you create edits, fan art, gif sets, a letter, or simply reblog posts, we’d love for you to be part of it. Use the tag #RememberingLiamPayne to be part of this day as we all honor his memory in our own way. You can find the original post here.
Is anyone else constantly going back and forth between disbelief and crippling grief all the while going through life with a constant but sort of quiet sadness in you?
Just after sunset during the Minneapolis memorial for Liam, someone released five red heart balloons. As they rose up together, one balloon rose higher and faster while the other four seemed to hang back sending it off. To me, the moment felt like these lyrics
You will find me
In places that we've never been
For reasons we don't understand
Walking in the wind
Liam may be gone, but we will continue to find him in many ways as we carry on his memory.
seeing all these memorials and it still doesn't seem real that he's gone. it's odd because he's not someone we saw everyday or even ever physically. but there was always this reassurance that he was alive out there somewhere doing something. we'd see him through our phones from time to time but he was there. and now he's just not. we'll never see him grow, get better, see him grow old, live his life, there'll be no more music and no more liam in our phones popping up somewhere in the world. and it just feels so unbelievable. that he's gone. that he's really gone.
as nauseatingly sad as it’s making me, i also think it’s so so beautiful that people from all different walks of life are holding memorials and tributes for liam. it’s always been one of my favorite things about the band—the way they touched people in every corner of the world. liam was always so curious and so respectful of different cultures, different places. and now fans are mourning him in different ways, making space for him in their culture and tradition. i do think he would have loved that and i’m sure it’s a comfort to his family. it’s not going to change anything but it must make them immeasurably proud to see how good their liam was, how many lives he touched and how many people he made happy. it’s very bittersweet
No matter how mad the word made us,
It always held hope — a “hiatus.”
I’m sad for so many reasons — 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 — 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. We’ve 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 wasn’t just a celebrity. They weren’t just a boyband. He was an integral part of an integral part of our formative years — 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. We’ve lost a beloved one, we’ve lost innocence, we’ve lost inspiration, we’ve lost a piece of our foundation.
We’ve lost hope.
It used to frustrate me, in retrospect, that they called it a “hiatus.” It felt dishonest — like a gentle lie to let us down easy. Why couldn’t 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 didn’t matter if it never came. All that matters was that it might. And “hiatus” wasn’t just for us; it held their optimism too. Especially Liam’s. It left the door open, even if only a crack, for the possibility of something more.
It’s 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 we’d see the unrivaled magic of those boys on stage together again — the greatest team the world has ever seen. Maybe Zayn would join, probably not. Maybe it would’ve 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 they’ve 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 Liam’s death. Maybe, someday, there will be a memorial performance. Maybe we’ll see three or four out of five come together to honor him — 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 don’t. I wake up and my first thought is “Liam isn’t here anymore,” and then I go about my day with that relentless realization lurking around the corner of every mundane task I do.
I haven’t been able to listen to their music yet. It’s 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, I’ll put on WMYB, get choked up at “You’re insecure” and second-guess my readiness. But then jump to History, and find solace in the lyrics that are currently rattling around my brain but aren’t ready to be heard yet: “This is not the end, this is not the end” … “We can live forever.”
I both envy and pity all the people in the world that saw the news about Liam and didn't have much of a reaction to it besides maybe 'oh that's sad' and were able to carry on with their day without anything changing for them. Envy because they're not currently feeling this deep aching sadness and sense of unfairness, and pity because that means they didn't get to experience the absolute joy and magic and once in a lifetime-ness that was 1d and its members
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