Nine times out of ten, you never knew the deceased, except remotely through their work, but you feel the loss as if you did. Regardless, that person showed up in your life in some way, courtesy of television, films, radio, books, newspapers, magazines, or paparazzi photos. They were as real to you as family, friends, coworkers, and classmates. So I guess it's only natural to grieve their absence from this world when they go.
For me, some of the most significant celebrity deaths that I've grieved, and will likely always remember where I was and what I was doing when I heard, were Princess Diana's, Michael Jackson's, and Whitney Houston's (I still sniffle when I hear her incredible voice), and now Robin Williams'. I never met them, of course, but those losses have stayed in my memory, as much as the deaths of my grandparents and a close friend from high school.
If someone is part of your life, does it really matter if you sat next to this person at school or watched them on TV or grew up listening to their music? Loss is loss. Death is powerful, final, and often shocking (even when it's expected). It's the great equalizer, cutting down the famous, non-famous, and infamous in the same way(s). It's part of life - for everyone - but rarely happens when expected or in an expected way. At least it seems that way to me. All of us, even those who are strong, powerful, untouchable, and larger than life are shockingly not beyond the power of death. It turns out, they're ultimately just like us. I think that's why celebrity deaths, especially the untimely ones, shake us to our cores.
It's also interesting how death changes perspectives about our lives and their lives. We can become exalted, saintlike, in death, regardless of how unsaintlike we were in life.
Death unquestionably changes life.
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