Born in 1977 to young parents, I grew up with a lot of that era’s music in my home. My father’s record collection had quite a range, from the Beatles to the Doobie Brothers, Chicago to Dire Straits, The Eagles to Steely Dan. If he had a David Bowie album, I don’t remember listening to it, and I listened most of what he had on vinyl or, later, cassette tape.

For me, David Bowie will forever be immortalized in his role as Jareth, the Goblin King, in the 1986 Jim Henson fantasy classic, The Labyrinth. It was a memorable film, and Bowie’s acting performance, as well as the unique brand of music he added to the movie’s few musical numbers, demanded attention. I loved him in that movie (even if I wasn’t a fan of those pants) and ever since, that role was my point of reference when encountering him in a movie (like Zoolander), a show (like Extras), or even discovering some of his very eccentric music. I could never have been classed as a David Bowie fan, but I was certainly aware of who he was and the strange breed of iconic status he once enjoyed.

Yesterday, when I heard he had died at the young age of 69, I was as surprised as anyone. As I approach 40 myself, I’m living through the time when more and more of the ubiquitous figures in my life — both personal and cultural — have passed, or are passing away. When it’s a family member or the parent of a friend, I always have some idea about who they really were and how they lived, and there’s a consolation in that whenever I come to understand that they were men or women of faith, close to God in the sacraments and in the lives that they lived.

Read the article “Imagining David Bowie in Hell” on onepeterfive.com.