With cheeks wet from tears, I sit at home with my Purple Rain album playing. Just last week I called my son and heard the same album playing in the background.
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“Why didn’t you tell me you had this?” he asked.
At 16 years old, up until a couple of months ago his favorite Prince reference came by way of the infamous Dave Chappelle skit. For him as a guitar player, there aren’t too many black artists out there that he could use as inspiration. So once he finally started getting into Prince, I was excited. Finally. Something we could both enjoy.
About an hour ago, my son emailed me. It was just three words.
“My man, Prince,” he wrote.
Simple, yet poignant.
Since the news of Prince’s death hit the world, the outpouring of grief has been coming in like a flood:
https://twitter.com/Lin_Manuel/status/723196077353127941https://twitter.com/therealelp/status/723194630301339653https://twitter.com/nilerodgers/status/723197024963719168https://twitter.com/questlove/status/723196139906981888https://twitter.com/LupeFiasco/status/723197575277494272https://twitter.com/_MAXWELL_/status/723201825659334656https://twitter.com/jtimberlake/status/723200946050736128https://twitter.com/thauserkstp/status/723200896390160385https://twitter.com/RodneyJerkins/status/723196424549068801https://twitter.com/ddlovato/status/723196141714608128
April 21, the day the world realized that it has lost one of its doves.
Straight From 
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