Letter to Someone You Wish You Could Meet

Dear Nippy,

Some people reading this letter may not know that I am referring to the once "incomparable Whitney Houston," but as I sat here struggling with who I'd like to meet, you somehow popped into mind.

I remember the first time I heard you on the radio. I had no idea who you were, but I loved your voice more than life itself. Song after song, you took me to places my young mind never imagined. Then I found out how young you were - you were just nineteen at the time, very close in age with my oldest sister, making you relatable in a whole different way than any other singer I admired at that time. You were basically a kid yourself, making my own dreams, as scattered as they sometimes were, seem attainable. My friend and I sat for hours sometimes, trying to mimic your vocals and learn the proper notes on our shared keyboard to recreate your mastery, to no avail, but as close as some young buds could dream of coming.

Time and hits went by and oh my! "She married Bobby Brown???" As much as I fought it, I relented to the idea of how cool it was because the Right On magazines said so, and after while, I honestly was pretty ok about it. Then came the rumors. "Whitney is on drugs." I didnt believe it for one minute! How could you be on drugs? I saw "The Bodyguard" and you seemed great to me. So the acting could have used a few more lessons, but hey, I bought in! I even sang one of the songs from that movie for the talent portion of the homecoming pageant I was in, sophomore year in college, and I won, Whit! I won!

Then I saw it. Show after show, you started performing sort of haphazardly - unsure of the words, nevermind the melodies - and yelling into every mic within reach that Bobby Brown was the king of R&B. WTH??? Your wigs started looking crooked, you started sweating all profuse-like, and your already ultra-slim frame became that of a staircase railing. Even still, it wasnt until I saw you perform on Michael Jackson's 30th Anniversary special, clavicles all carved out and boots hanging on for dear life to your sad little legs and ankles, that I really knew things were bad. It broke my heart.

Rumors, videos, interviews, and one poorly thought out Bravo show.... and there was no more denying it. My Whitney was lost.

But then.... oh but then..... a glimmer of light. Rumors of a split between you and Bobby meant, to me, that you could come out of whatever darkness you had slipped into. An interview with Oprah (*eye roll*) and a new album, and I thought we were good to go. Then came the performances and the concerts and more damn rumors.... baby, ya killin me!

Its such a sad thing to think that someone so gifted, whose voice was nothing less than blessed by heaven itself, could fall into a cavern so deep that there is no hope for recovery. If I had the chance to meet you, I'd have questions - a lot of questions - and I'd only hope for honesty in your responses, which is probably unlikely from the mouth of an addict, but even if I couldnt sway you out of your madness, I would have the chance to tell you how much you once inspired me - inspired a planet - and let you know that your journey has not been in vain. Whatever you went through, you took me with you. You took all of us with you, and through all the jokes and commentary, I dont believe there is a person living that doesnt want to see you get better. I would love to just put your hand in mine and say, "I love you, girl," and hope that somewhere in there, the Whitney I fell in love with all those years ago is hearing me, and saying, "thank you, girl."

Forever, Dig