
Why is it that when a person tells you there's over a million stars in the universe you believe them, but if someone tells you there's wet paint somewhere, you have to touch it to make sure?

Why is it that when a person tells you there's over a million stars in the universe you believe them, but if someone tells you there's wet paint somewhere, you have to touch it to make sure?
There have been several high-profile deaths just this week that have dominated the television news coverage and received a seemingly endless amount of written coverage on the internet and entertainment publications. First, we learned of the passing of Ed McMahon, who is undoubtedly the most famous sidekick in history. He provided an essential accompaniment to Johnny Carson for more than thirty years, and his impact on our popular culture is undeniable. Then, we received the shocking news of the deaths of both Farrah Fawcett and Michael Jackson in the same day. Particularly in the case of Michael Jackson, whose passing was so unexpected, we quickly witnessed an outpouring of emotion and grief from around the globe. These losses to our greater society made me reflect on how we deal with grief when the person we lose is someone with whom we have a much more personal relationship. Yes, we may make a passing comment about Michael Jackson such as, “It’s so sad. He was an amazing talent” or “I feel as if a part of my childhood has passed with him.” However, when we are grieving the loss of a parent, spouse, or child, the pain is usually more intense and longer lasting.