Losing an artist before their time is profoundly unsettling. It leaves a void that extends beyond their absence; we grieve the songs left unwritten, the albums never made, and the concerts that were never played. Their death leaves cultural scars, shaping how we view their work and their impact. But as the years pass, an inevitable shift takes place. The loss, while never forgotten, becomes less defining than what they created in the time they had.
John Lennon and Kurt Cobain are just two examples of an unfortunate reality: artists whose time was cut short, altering the course of music history forever. These two hit me the hardest, but this article applies to all the brilliant minds we’ve lost too early. Their lives were not just moments in time, but forces that shaped everything that followed, influencing the world through both their presence and their absence.
It’s impossible not to wonder how things might have turned out differently. 'What ifs' are a natural and even beautiful part of imagination. (Like the image above: What if Cobain and Lennon had a cup of coffee together, what would they talk about?) Thoughts like this allow us to dream, to tell stories, to speculate for the sheer joy of possibility. They are a way to laugh, to create, and even to cope with loss. Entertaining these thoughts doesn’t mean rejecting reality, but rather embracing the power of imagination in processing what we know. Would they have evolved as artists? Would they have changed the direction of music? Speculating on what could have been is natural, and it fuels creativity, but in terms of history, it exists only in the realm of fiction. The reality is this: every event unfolds exactly as it does, and history is built upon what was, not what could have been.
In truth, their absence shaped the world just as much as their presence once did. Their deaths were not just interruptions but pivotal moments in the (endless) chain of history. The world continued, not with them, but because of them. What would Nirvana have become if Cobain had lived? Would Lennon’s political influence have grown or faded? These questions will never have answers, and in time, they lose their weight. The more history builds upon this reality, the one in which they are gone, the less their deaths define them.
This isn’t to diminish the weight of their loss, but rather to highlight how time alters our perception of tragedy. Consider Mozart. He died at 35, a tragic loss in his time, but today, few actively mourn that loss. His death is a footnote; his music is the legacy. The same is happening, slowly, with Lennon and Cobain, as the emotional weight of their deaths gives way to the enduring power of their work. Grief is not about forgetting; it is about learning to carry the loss as part of us, just as history carries the weight of those who shaped it. While the pain of their loss may never fully fade, time shifts how we hold onto it. Their presence remains, woven into the fabric of music and culture. Future generations will see them less as tragic figures and more as artistic milestones, reminders that their time here, however brief, left an indelible mark.
Over time, what endures most is not their loss, but the work they left behind. Focusing too much on what might have been can distract from appreciating the real, tangible contributions they did make. If we dwell solely on their absence, we miss the fact that they were, they existed, they created, and they influenced the world in ways that still ripple outward.
Rather than mourning the loss of a future that never existed, we should celebrate the reality of their presence when they were here. Because ultimately, that is what truly lasts: what they created, what they gave to the world, and the echoes of their influence that continue to inspire generations to come.
-Drake Descant
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