Sinead

She came to us as a remarkably outspoken maiden singing a song by Prince. She cut her hair, so nobody focused on her beauty. It didn't work.

As a mother, she had four children by four men, vowing that no man would ever contain her. No man did, although tens of thousands of catholic men tried to destroy her.

As a crone, she lost her mind. All I could think to say was "no. Please. No. That doesn’t seem fair."

Sometimes, the greatest minds are the most easily lost. When Katie died, my mother tried to explain that it wasn't her, but mental illness, that caused the problem. I tried to explain that while I knew her explanation was heartfelt, it just made things worse because all I could think of was "I should have been there."

It always struck me that Katie chose her own childhood swing set to hang herself from. Not fully a woman yet, she didn't believe she could continue. I can’t even imagine her in my mind as fully a woman, only the bud of a flower, showing color, but not yet opened.

She had a remarkably resolute mind. She decided I was her boyfriend, and there wasn't any need to discuss it. Not really understanding what love is, I knew she was fascinating to talk to. I wouldn't say that she made me feel no longer ugly, but she made me feel less ugly, and then she was gone.

The world likes to dangle someone brilliant and beautiful before me, then snatch their mind away. First my brother, then Katie, then Sinead O'Connor, and plenty in between. Is that God? Is that a Godly thing to do?

I can lift heavy things, and you can hit me square in the face without slowing me down, but I'm just a boy. This doesn't seem fair.

Katie’s real name isn’t Gaelic like Sinead or Boyd. In English, it means “victory.” That’s a bit cruel. She never had a chance at victory.

I can’t even swear that I loved her. I loved being with her. I loved the idea of her. I loved that she could see in me things I thought nobody would ever see, then she was gone. That doesn’t seem fair.

You can’t blame someone for losing their mind. It’s not like they’re being forgetful. They would very much have liked to keep it, but it was unjustly taken from them. That doesn’t seem fair.

When Friedrich Nietzsche lost his mind, there were all these elaborate stories and allegories about how and why it happened. God was getting his revenge, it seemed, but none of it was true. He woke up one day, and the map to that remarkable mind was gone. It was taken from him. That doesn’t seem fair.

I was always fascinated by the story of Samson. Made stronger than all men by God, he lost his strength because he was a sinner. Then he lost his sight. God restored his strength, but not his sight, and he brought down the temple of the sinners and all around it, ending his own life.

It’s a metaphor, of course. It has to be. Still, though, that, that right there, that I think is fair.