Self Care
Mac Miller passed away on September 7, 2018. Image by Christaan Felber.
Swimming has been on repeat for the past two weeks. It’s not just because Mac Miller’s passing made me feel inexplicable grief, I truly believe it’s a great album front-to-back. It has a tangible emotional depth. Each song is its own crucial piece of the conversation, which many took as Mac saying that he was okay. There are references to his addiction and dark emotional states he’d struggled with, but the overall feeling you’re left with is that he was overcoming his demons.
At the same time, he was truly exploring all of his musical talent. Surprisingly, John Mayer, who recorded guitar on “Small Worlds,” put it best, saying, “This was going to be Mac Miller’s year. He made a quantum leap in his music. That’s incredibly hard to do, to evolve and get better and more focused while your career is already underway.”
What’s strange is that I never really considered myself a fan of Mac Miller. Truthfully, when I was in high school, I was envious of his success. He was only a year older than me, but was becoming a nationally acclaimed artist and touring all over the country while I was just your average high school student trying to pass trigonometry. His meteoric rise came around the same time a bunch of kids in my high school were listening to a slew of young rappers who all sounded just like Mac, so I thought maybe this was just another kid making party music that high schoolers would love for a couple years before the hype faded out.
For Mac Miller, it didn’t fade.
I’ve always been a hip-hop fan, but it wasn’t until my junior year in college that any of Miller’s music made it into my rotation. Even then, it was only a couple of songs. “Gees” and “Red Dot Music” off of Watching Movies with the Sound Off came up as Spotify recommendations, and I listened to them a ton, but I never really took the time to listen to the rest of the album. The same could be said with The Divine Feminine. The first time I heard “Dang,” I was hooked just like so many other people.
Swimming was different. I first heard “Ladders” on a new music playlist the day the album came out, and my immediate response was to think, ‘whoa, who’s this?’ I pulled up Spotify, surprised to find it was Mac Miller. It was the perfect introduction to the album, with the soulful, melancholic intro, followed by a great dynamic shift to a bass groove and horns.
I listened to bits of the album here and there over the next month, telling myself I’d eventually give it its due and listen to the entire thing. Unfortunately, it wasn’t until hearing about his passing that I finally got around to it, and I felt guilty. Why hadn’t I given this guy more credit? What took me so long to fall in love with his music? I was so moved by the album and his musical talent, let alone his ability to open up about his struggles and the emotions that accompanied them. I listened to the tracks over and over, particularly hung up on mellow, open feel of the production on “Dunno,” and the mixture of the slow, soulful chorus woven with the effortless rhythmic flow of the verses on “Wings.”
The barrage of memorials from my favorite rappers and industry icons were all over social media that day. It got to the point that I sought out specific individuals to see what they had to say about Mac Miller. They collectively described an incredibly thoughtful, ambitious, passionate, loving and selfless person. He seemed to have an infectious energy, and all the interactions people recounted having with him painted a picture of him being nothing but genuine and sincere. A clear love for his family and Pittsburgh roots shines through both the memorials and his work. He even went as far as featuring his grandmother telling the story of meeting his grandfather on the final track of The Divine Feminine.
Before long, I found myself down a rabbit hole, reading profiles, album reviews, and Genius annotations of his music, then watching videos of interviews, live performances, a cameo in Scary Movie 5, and even a bit of his Vine compilation. The energy, enthusiasm and depth of his character described by his contemporaries shined through. The more I learned about Mac, the more I began to realize why his passing so unexpectedly affected me.
Everything I learned about Mac Miller made me feel like I really knew him. Of course I didn’t, but I did have someone in my life who had seemingly every character trait in common with him.
My cousin Matt had a kind of energy that immediately filled the room. A former college basketball player, his physical stature certainly aided him, but even if he’d been a foot shorter there still would have been an unmistakable aura of excitement, enthusiasm and positivity that followed him everywhere he went. He had this way of making even the bleakest situations brighter by flashing a smile, warm-heartedly teasing you to lighten the mood, and diverting attention from the negative by clowning and making a fool of himself just to make everybody else feel better. Though sometimes coming off as obnoxious, he always found a way of winning over everyone. It was impossible not to love the guy.
Matt was hard working, fiercely passionate, and annoyingly gifted at everything he tried his hand at, from sports, to music, to art. He had immense pride for his city of Chicago and its teams. Greater than anything, though, was his love for his family. He always put family first, and would have gone to extraordinary lengths to help his loved ones however he was able.
What will be five years ago this October, we lost Matt to an overdose. A years-long struggle with addiction cut his life short. Much like Mac’s situation, Matt had so much more to give to the world. On the verge of finishing law school, there is no doubt in my mind that he was on his way to becoming an incredible attorney. I know Matt had more love, joy and passion to share with those around him. We miss him immensely, but carry his memory with love, and do our best to keep his spirit alive by trying to spread the same positivity, passion and love that he did.
My cousin Matt was so greatly loved, and it’s clear from everything I’ve read that Mac Miller was, too. The most difficult thing to digest in these situations is how addiction can cloud the mind and prevent the person struggling from seeing how much love they have surrounding them, and how many people they have ready and willing to support them through their toughest moments.
I think it’s important to touch on the idea of support. Addiction is a disease, and even if the addict realizes they’re struggling with it and they want to make a change, it’s not easy for them to do so alone. Having a support system is so incredibly important, just as it would be with any other rehabilitation process. The difficult thing with addiction, as is the case with many mental health issues, is that it doesn’t always show on the surface. While Mac Miller wasn’t coy about his addiction, I had no idea that my cousin was struggling.
Some may view it as a cliche, but with these situations when we’re reminded of the seriousness of our country’s addiction problem, and we have to keep in mind the fact that everybody has their own story. No matter what may shine through on the surface, we don’t know each person’s story, and what they may be struggling with. All we can do, and what we should do, is let our loved ones know how much we care, and that we are always there for them. And for the people we interact with in passing, treat them with kindness and respect.
I am here for all of my friends and family. If you’re reading this, and you’ve ever considered me a friend, I am here if you need help, or if you need someone to talk to. I may not have the solutions, but if you need someone to confide in, need help finding someone to confide in, or whatever it may be, I am here to help.
Losing a loved one, or even a public figure you connected with, can be devastating, and may leave you searching for meaning. I promise you, meaning is there. The grief may always be tough to shake, but we can always keep the memories of the people we lost alive by living our lives inspired by the qualities we loved in them.
I’ll leave you with these words from Craig Jenkins in his final interview with Mac Miller for Vulture.
“If you want to honor his memory, work on your dreams and listen to your feelings. Be a force that brings people together. Seek and encourage greatness. Take chances on people who deserve a break. Leave unfounded rumors alone. Malcolm was hilarious and just genuinely committed to shining love and light on anyone who needed it. I wish the universe gave more back.”
You are loved.
Rest in Peace, Mac Miller.