The early passing of artists tends to foster an interesting (and occasionally uncomfortable) combination of reactions, especially in the age of social media. On one hand you will see devoted fans writing their own eulogies, attempting to encapsulate what the artist meant within the prism of their own experiences. You will also unfortunately find your share of naysayers who can’t wait to seize the moment to impart their own self-fashioned wisdom about how overrated the artist in question was, or how superficial people are for mourning celebrities while so many others suffer in anonymity. I recall getting into a heated exchange with an erstwhile friend when he posted something on Facebook disparaging fans of Chris Cornell after the star’s passing, since it was of equal or greater importance to him that normal people die daily with no fanfare. There was a deeper context regarding addiction and the way we view addicts, but there’s no sense dredging that up. The point is that we ended up wrestling over a dead man’s grave, and while to this day I disagree with his sentiments, I could have also just let it go and still mourned a man whose work I had admired since childhood without feeling compelled to get into Facebook fights over it.