Why are we sad - if we are - when a famous person dies at a ripe age?

Read The amazing story behind Things Fall Apart.

It appeared in this morning’s edition of Slate.com

I can’t generalize but his story is such a powerful one (as was my experience when I finally read the novel, ten years ago), that i did feel sadness and regret. He was an unexpected force who had an astonishingly profound effect on African literature and writing in general.

It was just a stroke of luck that kept his manuscript from being permanently “disappeared.”

But that is the significance of his life – not his death. Isn’t there a difference? Maybe we should celebrate his accomplishments but why sadness?

We do both, of course. And his death certainly reminds me of my age. As you and I have said to each other often, we feel what we feel. “Ask not…”

I can still remember just how dumbstruck I was when I read the novel. Perhaps the power that that experience evoked explains my reaction to his death.

It reminds you of the part they played in your lives. It is nostalgia.

I feel sad when someone who has made great contributions to the world or to some part of it that I care about departs this known life, meaning that his or her role has come to an end.

But when that person has lived long, accomplished much, appears to have been happy, and dies with minimal misery, I think that’s an uplifting story and warrants celebration. My usual reaction is to want to congratulate that person for having done it right.

This is a very good question. The loss of someone famous I grew up with or admired or was entertained by—and therefore in some way identified with—feels like—no, is—a tiny loss of my own life. I can recall so many people for whom I shed tears, whether young (Bobby Darin, JFK, my dad) or elderly (Jimmy Stewart, Frank Sinatra, even Albert Einstein)—and one day I realized I was shedding tears for myself, too.

A person you never met, and only know of in the media, can have a profound effect on you. The more one connects, if only in his mind, the more the sadness at his passing. When that person dies is never the issue; a life that meant something to you personally, is gone. You may mourn with a smile on your face, but you still feel the loss accutely.

Well said, @Pachyderm_In_The_Room and @Sunny2.

In a way they also represent a chunk of our personal history, and when they go, their death closes a chapter. The feeling of loss is real and can go very deep. In much the same way, the death of pet might also stand for more than loss of a beloved companion—it’s a marker in our lives. Even the closing of a familiar place or the destruction of a landmark we never even realized we reckoned by can mean the end of an era to us.

These are some of the reasons why the Buddhists tell us that attachment causes suffering. Sometimes the sense of loss is bittersweet, but there’s still that pang. We are made to mourn loss; to me it seems to be the downside of one of the things that are good in us.

@Jeruba, I liked your comment, as well. I have this wonderful phrase on my wall.

The sadness of the passing of time.

Yes to all the above. But also, Chinua Achebe, for one, will never write another book for me. And I will miss looking forward to that book.

I have no idea if this question triggered it, but I had a dream this morning in which I spent time with a dear friend who died several years ago. It was so good to see her again and hear her voice. I think it did. In any case, thanks @janbb for asking the question.

@Sunny2, isn’t it lovely to be able to visit with a departed friend or relative in a dream? I love that.

^^I don’t know that I’ve had the experience before. Yes, it was lovely.

@Pachyderm_In_The_Room I’ve dreamt about my parents and I’ve had dreams in which my younger son was a child and was clutching to hold on to those dreams when I woke up.