Brittany Murphy died today. She was 32. Her death has nothing to do with bad motherhood, or bad parenthood, or bad anything, but still. Clueless! 8 Mile! Happy Feet! She occupied a place on the cultural landscape of our lives and her disappearance from landscape will not go unnoticed. That, and – if we're being honest with ourselves about why this kind of thing moves us – the death of a young woman, just at the cusp of her adulthood, really, leaving behind a young husband and an unrealized future, strikes at a vulnerable nerve, one that is the source of so many sleepless nights, so much anxiety: we could go at any time. Any one of us. Any time. Holy hell.
So.
Rest in peace, Brittany.
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