I felt a little foolish posting last night that I cried because Steve Jobs had died.  Actually, I cried when I read what he had written about living life, about letting go of the past, envisioning the future and to not be afraid if you couldn’t see it clearly.  I knew he was a visionary, introducing the masses to things we never knew we even needed.  How much happier are we when we can take a break, put in our earbuds and listen to our favorite tunes?  We can go to iTunes and for a dollar, download Def Leppard’s “Pour Some Sugar on Me,” and be instantly transported back to Junior Prom in 1988.  To watch my Dad’s face when I played “House of the Rising Sun” for him; seeing his expression change as the memories swirled–he was remembering when this song came out.  He said, “1964.  I was 18 years old and I remember listening to this when I worked at the gas station.”  Then he surprised me by singing along. He knew the words.  He was amazed that with a few clicks, I could get any song.  Now.  Steve Jobs made that happen.

I read an article this morning in the Washington Post titled “Steve Jobs and the idea of letting go.”  I wrote about it in my News Blog:

Wow, this is a great article about Steve Jobs and about life. I never thought about it quite like this. I think the majority of people have a generalized fear of change–think Facebook. We like our change slow and gradual, giving us time to adjust. As this column from the Washington Post points out, Steve Jobs slowly nudged us along, unveiling new and exciting products, making us forget about our old technologies. It reminds me of a fellow students comment about the Ipod, which didn’t have an expansion port for a micro SD card. Now I realize that Jobs didn’t want us to expand it. He wanted us to use it till the next bigger and better model came out. Let the old one go. You got your use out of it.

This morning when I checked my blog, I notice that a lot people found my post about crying via search engines.  These were the keywords they used:  steve jobs died and i cried, cried for steve jobs, i cried for steve jobs, steve jobs cried.

It was good to know that I wasn’t the only one.

I will be writing about the unpredictable nature of death/grief in future posts.