One Fan Remembers Kurt Cobain In A Letter

Dear Kurt,

In a lot of ways it feels like it’s been more than a year since you left us. So much has happened. I want to tell you about it.

I remember April 8, 1994, the day I heard you were lying dead in your $1.1 million Seattle home. I couldn’t believe it. I had seen you a few months before, with your wife and daughter, and though you walked like a man with lead in his pockets, you didn’t seem displeased about being alive.

When news surfaced in early March that you had overdosed on sedatives and champagne in Rome, I willed myself to believe statements by your handlers that it was an accident. Months later, however, your wife, Courtney Love, revealed that you felt rejected by her and did try to kill yourself. You even left a note.

You left a note in April, too. It was found by police near your body, near your blood, near the shotgun you used to end your pain. Via cassette tape, your sobbing wife shared parts of that note with a crowd of thousands gathered at the Seattle Center two days after your death was revealed.

“I haven’t felt the excitement of creating and writing for years. … When I’m backstage, the roar of the crowd doesn’t affect me,” she read, then added her own response: “So don’t be a rock star.”

I know you saw plenty of crowds of thousands of emotional people in your lifetime, but this one was different than the ones who turned out to see you play. Sure, some of them were playing grunge dress-up, and came to the Center just because it was the closest thing to one of your shows. But most of them came because they needed to be with others who understood how they felt about you, how you gave voice to their feelings of disaffection.

When you died, some said good riddance to noisy rubbish. Andy Rooney of “60 Minutes,” told Generation X to get some “real problems.” Maybe those people never felt scared, powerless and angry. Or maybe they’ve forgotten.

I don’t know if you can see us from where you are, but if you’ve looked in on your wife, you know she’s had a hard time. People feared she would try to follow you. But she seems to have held up well, considering.

You still show up on magazine covers, and the books will keep coming. The first book to address your death - a thin paperback quickie called “Never Fade Away” - hit bookstores in early May.

About that same time, Geraldo Rivera hit Seattle to do a show about you and “a generation on the edge.” It ended up being more about rumor-mongering and Rivera’s ego. I’m almost glad you missed it.

But I’m sorry you missed the second birthday of your daughter Frances (born Aug. 18, 1992). I’m sorry you missed your third wedding anniversary (Feb. 24). I’m sorry you missed your 28th birthday (Feb. 20). When I turn 28 this year I’ll think of you, and of the transient magic of alive.

I can’t help but wonder: Is there a rock’n’roll heaven? Do they have a hell of a band? Have you trashed their gear?

Are you finally at peace? Sincerely, Stephanie Reader