Michael Jackson’s final farewell:  A reminder of mortality in the face of our efforts to avoid it

Letting go of Michael Jackson has felt, for me, like being repeatedly jabbed with a small cattle prod. The jolts have come when I received the friend’s text that told me he was dead, when it was confirmed a few minutes later on Radio 4, and then, a couple of days ago, when I was briefly transfixed by the ghoulish “last picture” on the cover of a celebrity magazine. Just as I was getting used to the idea of him as a corpse, yesterday he reappeared alive on another front page, apparently buzzing with energy as he rehearsed for the never-to-be London shows. That was jolt number four.

It’s not over yet. Reports from California suggest that the Jackson’s family plan is to put his body on display in a glass coffin at Neverland. A 30-car motorcade will transport his remains from LA to the ranch where public viewing could precede a family funeral. Neverland has itself long since fallen into decay, and the image of a superstar who could not grow up, lying dead and surrounded by delapidated fairground attractions but still being peered over by a half-adoring, half-repulsed public, could hardly be more poignant. Jackson was stuck in a childhood so weird he could never complete the developmental path to adulthood, but despite his best efforts, the physical ageing process would not be denied.

Perhaps this is why a decision to display his corpse might feel more shocking. Having preserved himself through surgery, his body was the most visible manifestation of his resistance of the natural stages of life, which must include death. That body, if made public, would be a rude reminder of how all fantasies of immortality meet reality in the end.

It could, however, be a good reminder. As a culture we are largely in denial of death, even to the point of hiding old people in nursing homes. This postpones the day when we must face the reality of our own end, but at the painful cost of resisting the changes of age, not to mention the frightening possibility that people will start to ignore us when we, in our turn, begin to look mortal. Funeral rituals are designed to help us come to terms with a person’s demise, but they also pierce the psychic armour that shields us from genuine realisation of the facts of death. This may be unpleasant in the short term, but the resulting realignment can be life-enhancing – witness those who have near-death experiences and report returning to life with renewed vigour and fearlessness, understanding the freedom that comes from deep understanding of life’s temporariness. Read Article

By Ed Halliwell