Walking into the house I couldn’t hear myself think; “Smooth Criminal” played through the speakers in my house. As I scurried up to my room, I heard my mom weakly crying in her bathroom, gazing at her old vinyls of Michael Jackson she got when she first got married. My mom was the biggest Michael Jackson fan I knew; she listened to him every day and hung posters of him in the house before she had kids. Seeing my mom cry agonized me. My whole life I’ve only witnessed my mom cry twice, once when her dad died and again when Michael Jackson died. It took my mom and the world a few weeks to get over the horrific news about Michael Jackson. For the next few weeks, all you heard on the radio was how the king of pop was actually gone. All we talked
