“I love him so much!”

Stripped of the security fences, face masks, and her father’s protective eyes, she is just an ordinary child crying about the loss of the only parent she ever knew.

And with that, she stole our hearts and broke them into pieces.

They were simple words we hear everyday from every other kid, but to hear them uttered by Paris Jackson who courageously spoke before the public from whom her father shielded her forever, it was, for us, a moment of reflection. Of who else Michael Jackson was. Beyond the spotlight, somewhere where the paparazzi could not reach him, he was a parent. A parent just like the ones most of us have, just like the one some us are.

“Daddy has been the best father you can ever imagine… I just wanted to say I love him so much!”

No words could have humanized Michael Jackson more. He was the King of Pop. But he was also a father.

Michael Jackson Who?

Dead, they’re calling him the King of Pop. In life, he was Jacko Wacko and all sorts of other weird, obscene names attached to a thousand and one scandals.

There’s nothing like death to stop malicious tongues. Nothing like death to bring back the glory of an icon who fell victim of a self-righteous public.  Now the same public is singing “Beat It” and “She’s Out Of My Life” once again, and surprisingly, the lyrics are intact in everyone’s mind and not a single note has been forgotten through these years. Now we remember who he really was to us.

Tributes and applause, and shout-outs of “I love you, MJ!” are ringing everywhere.

Too late now, though. They fall dead on the ears that were meant to hear them.

If only we sang them sooner…

Charity and Motherhood

When you do something for someone and expect them to do the same for you, you’re on the wrong track. Because, you see, they never could. But look behind you, someone else may be paying it back, or may have paid it back before you even extended your generous hand.

Woody Hayes summed it best in so few words:

“You can never pay back; but you can always pay forward.”

We’ve heard it all before. Even seen it onscreen in Warner Brothers’ adaptation of Catherine Ryan Hyde’s novel, Pay It Forward, where a 12-year-old schoolboy sets out to complete a school project to change the world by doing a good deed for three people, eventually creating a charity pyramid.

We’ve experienced it all before. Everyone of us who has a mother. Yes, she, who never thinks twice about feeding us the last piece of bread so we won’t feel hunger even if her own stomach is grumbling; who would strip off her last piece of clothing to keep us warm; who would walk barefoot to buy us the designer shoes we want so much.

She, who risked her life so we would live.

And she never asked for anything in return. And you know you would never try to pay it back, because you never can.

And so you try to give the same amount of love to your children. Or other people’s children. Or people who are no longer children but who need your love and charity. Because your mother showed you how.

But don’t expect all those people you’ve helped to pay you back. They will have their own mothering to do.

Pay it forward. The concept of motherhood.

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