January 8, 2016
I’ve been reading all of the tributes to the great Robert Stigwood and had to hold back a bit before commenting. I understand how minds race and feel an urgency to eulogize when death occurs. We want to honor and give recognition, and scores of fans and others profoundly expressed their admiration.
Other than being brought to tears (as usual) by Barry’s statement (he speaks from his heart like no one else ever could), I was especially touched by Spencer Gibb’s words because he is usually under the radar and lives his life quietly, going about his business without fanfare. He was so damned spot-on with his comments that there’s not much else to say.
As a contributor to GSI, I started to feel overwhelmed and somewhat overcome by some of the tributes. Maybe it’s my softer than marshmallow demeanor, but sometimes I get seriously saddened after awhile. I read several Bee Gee fan sites and love the sincerity of the posts. However, something held me back, and at first I wasn’t sure why I didn’t jump on the bandwagon—just couldn’t do it.
After some serious reflection and days of clearing the cobwebs, I’m feeling the depth of my emotional turmoil. It’s really quite simple. My mind was on Maurice Gibb and the upcoming anniversary of his passing. There was no room for more grief. I usually start thinking of this sad date of remembrance weeks ahead of January 12. The pangs of hurt still stab me, re-breaking my pieced-together heart.
There’s a fragility where Maurice is concerned; and over the years, I’ve talked with hundreds of fans who admire him. Some snippets of accolades I’ve documented are:
“He was funny, sweet and vulnerable. I loved his generosity with the fans.”
“I loved his terrific sense of humor”
“His smile just made me feel better about life.”
“He overcame addiction that I faced and helped me.” (multiply this one by a thousand).
“He had so much natural talent but stayed in the background so often.”
“He never really had the spotlight much, but he was the one I appreciated because he tried to be a peacemaker.”
“I loved his voice. Why didn’t he sing lead more?”
“God gave such gifts to a wonderful man.”
You get the idea. It’s always a positive comment accompanied by a glowing smile or a laugh. He just had a way with people.
Everyone seemed to identify with Mo, and I know he’s watching and listening and certainly appreciative of the love. He probably was the first person to greet Mr. Stigwood as he arrived in heaven, giving him a smiling welcome and guiding him through the gates to reunite with so many of the talents he fostered over the years.
To be completely frank, I realize that Mr. Stigwood’s loss is a huge emotional hit to the entertainment industry; and if not for his vision and guidance, the world might not have experienced the Bee Gee phenomenon as it did. HIs acumen and intuition where they were concerned is well-documented. An intelligent visionary, he was one of a kind; and now we face the reality that another member of the Bee Gee family is gone and a world of Bee Gee fans mourns.
So, I find it appropriately gratifying to write about Mr. Stigwood and our cherished Maurice together. For all who seek comfort and ache from feelings of loss, perhaps the thought that they are in another realm without pain or sadness can provide some peace of mind.
They didn’t leave us to flounder. Great artistic work remains and is relived and loved from generation to generation, leaving us a legacy that we embrace like a furry blanket on a cold night. We were so blessed to have them with us, and fans around the world, although heaving great sighs of grief, say thank you.