Musician, icon and Minnesota legend Prince died this morning at the age of 57. I have no doubt that there will be a veritable flood of posts about Prince over the next few days, many of which will be more thorough, interesting and well-written. But I'm not writing this for you. I'm writing this for me.
I've lived in Minnesota all my life. I live 17 minutes from Prince's Chanhassen home. Despite this, I never met Prince. I never bought any of his albums. I was born almost a decade after he started his music career.
When I heard that Prince had died, I was driving home from work. There was a gentle rain falling -- just enough to merit use of the lowest setting on the windshield wipers. You'd probably expect me to say that I was devastated. That I had to pull over. That the rain was the universe itself crying at this new, gaping void. The truth is, I wasn't immediately devastated. I was merely dumbstruck. Speechless. I drove the rest of the way home in silence.
I spent the next hour deciding how I felt; not how I wanted to feel, but how I honestly felt. What connection did I have to this man I had never met? At the end of this reflection period, I hadn't solidified an opinion in my mind, but I felt myself breaking up anyway. I felt as though I had lost a brother. The logical part of me tried desperately to rationalize my feelings, but failed. Why did I feel this loss so strongly?
Mary Lucia, a DJ from local radio station The Current, described it in three words better than I ever could:
"He was Minnesota."
I identify as many things. I am an American. I am a writer. I am a father. But all of these identities are fluid; I am an American, but I know and respect my German and Danish heritage. I am a writer, but sometimes writing is the last thing I want to do. I am a father, but only recently, and I'm still getting used to that. However, I am -- and have always been and always will be -- a Minnesotan. I may move elsewhere, but I will always carry my identity as a Minnesotan close to me.
A piece of Minnesota died today. A big piece. And a piece of everybody who loves this state died along with it.
A version of this post originally appeared on Medium.