It was, of course, beyond bittersweet.
The weeks after losing Michael were a blur of unimaginable loss—and then, suddenly, we were faced with the decision as to whether or not we, as a family, would fly to New York to be on hand at Radio City Music Hall to accept the Best New Age Grammy should the envelope be opened, and were Oracle to win.
In a way, it was a coalescing moment—an immediate task, something positive we could do at a time when it often felt like we didn’t know what to do. Mike’s kids were still a bit too young to make the trip; Hilleary joined us.
We decided that my mom, Ruth, who had shown such strength and held us together during that awful time, would speak if Michael won. As we took our seats, I had an uncertain feeling—had we made the right decision? What if we’d come all this way, hoping to celebrate Michael’s music, but the award went to someone else? And always, the overwhelming feeling that Michael should be there, not us.