WHEN I heard that Girls Aloud star Sarah Harding had died, I cried.
I could blame this on a multitude of reasons – lack of sleep, hormones, it being a Monday morning – but it wasn’t any of those things.
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I felt inexplicably sad, even though I’d never met her, have no connection to her, haven’t even seen Girls Aloud in concert (although watching the sultry video for Sound Of The Underground as a teenager made a big impression on me).
I felt a bit silly about my waterworks, but it wasn’t a new feeling. I’d sobbed over Amy Winehouse, felt deeply shocked about Caroline Flack, and was bruised by the deaths of Brittany Murphy, Jade Goody, Prince, David Bowie… the list goes on.
Even though I was not familiar with these people, I felt a deep sadness when I heard about their deaths. In some cases I read news reports to find out more or I texted friends to learn how they felt.
Sometimes I wondered what the famous person’s loved ones were going through. Often I’d project myself into the story in some remote way. She was only a few more years old than me! She was my soundtrack to uni! She was a Tesco employee, I believe. And so on.
In many instances, it’s simply the shock of it, the sense of someone being taken way too soon – in Sarah Harding’s case, just 39 and dying from breast cancer.
Kate Wills
In many instances, it’s simply the shock of it, the sense of someone being taken way too soon – in Sarah Harding’s case, just 39 and dying from breast cancer. It can be so much more. It could be because they are famous. We think their lives of beauty and fame must have made them immortal.
We had never seen photos of Princess Diana, so it was obvious that there was a lot of emotion. I am effected by the news of her death.
Instantly, I’m transported back to August 1997. As I woke up in my childhood bedroom, I overheard my sister and mum talking about it.
I can recall my tiny mind racing over who must have died to cause this reaction in them. I remember watching the footage of the flower mounds and feeling the urge to join the crowds of mourners with red eyes.
Prince Harry has spoken out about how mad he was to see the world mourn his mom. She may have been “The People’s Princess” but I’m not surprised he thought: “This is my mum. You never even met her.” It made me question whether it’s even appropriate for us to mourn famous people, especially if that impinges on the private grief of those who really loved and knew them.
We now see collective grief on social media when celebrities die. People post RIP tweets. When a famous person’s death makes us feel sad, it’s often because they meant something, however small, to us.
Whether your way of dealing with it is a tweet, a bunch of flowers or just your thoughts, I reckon it’s important – not silly – to just lean in and feel it. RIP Sarah
Kate Wills
And there’s something beautiful about that. Maybe celebrity deaths teach us how to process grief on this removed from-the-sidelines level, so that when someone who is close to us dies, we’ve had some practice.
Celebrities may be the closest to public grieving. We are terrible at discussing death in this country. So whether your way of dealing with it is a tweet, a bunch of flowers or just your thoughts, I reckon it’s important – not silly – to just lean in and feel it. Sarah, RIP.
● Follow Kate on Instagram @katewillswrites.
This week I’m…
Watching…Only Murders In The Building. Selena Gomez’s Disney+ hit about crime-obsessed neighbs is binge-worthy.
Loving… By Rotation. I rented a The Vampire’s Wife dress for a wedding for a fraction of the cost of the real thing – and got tons of compliments!
Sipping…Twelve Below. The low-sugar tonics and sparkling drinks are a great switch for booze (or mixer for your G&T).