God gave him a set of pipes

When first introduced to Soundgarden in 1996, at age sixteen, namely&nbsp;<em>Down on the Upside</em>, I loved Chris Cornell for what else?&nbsp; His sex appeal and high vocals.

Now, in a day and age when tattoos are so ubiquitous, and being the (proudly) conservative prude I am, I can tell you that at age 19, I got my one and only tattoo of a sun--inspired by my dream to meet my summer love in New York, then take a hippie van for a road trip-turned-marriage to Arizona (where I bought <em>Superunknown </em>on cassette).&nbsp; Soundgarden was the soundtrack of that time in my life and those dreams.

Chris Cornell was part of my coming of age, his voice part of my identity:&nbsp; what I believed was good music, cool personal expression, attractive masculinity, a viable emotional approach to my world at that time.&nbsp; Chris's voice rode me into school my senior year, when I got my first car:&nbsp; a '74 Dodge Dart, with record-player speakers sliding around the backseat.&nbsp; He made me feel cool riding into that parking lot, my sound, my way.&nbsp;

A lot of people I love have died recently.&nbsp; I'm only 37, so I guessed I'd have more time with these people.&nbsp; My mom died last year, and my favorite grandpa died three years before her.&nbsp; My grandmas died in 2007 and 1993.&nbsp;

I've had four uncles commit suicide, two of them within the past five years.

And now, after having given me--us all--so much music, so many emotional outlets, so much enjoyment and catharsis, even reincarnated (Audioslave) and reunion (Soundgarden) work, Chris Cornell is gone from this life too.

I won't pretend to know all the ins and outs of all these deaths, but from loving and losing these people and going to grief workshops, I know a little bit about what happens after someone dies.

I know that the living have to make peace with what's left.&nbsp; There's not really any making <em>sense </em>of it.&nbsp; I know that, to me, Chris Cornell was a rock star, a celebrity, and that his family and close friends are the ones who are dealing with this tragedy most directly, and for these people my heart goes out.

But yes, Chris's death <em>does </em>affect us, those who loved what he did for us and gave us, musically and artistically, publicly.&nbsp; He didn't <em>have </em>to share any of his talent with the world, but I'm so glad and grateful that he did.&nbsp; He made history.

What we are left with is excellent music--and we all know that in times of depression, fear, and anxiety, in our seeking for meaning and expression, or even just in boredom, we have Chris's music.&nbsp; And that means a lot.

So many people don't do anything with their potential, but Chris did.

Nobody's perfect, and we're not naïve to think that Chris didn't have problems; from what I've read, Chris himself admitted faults.

But for his fans, what Chris did was write those songs, record those albums, perform those shows, collaborate with those musicians, give us tangible and intangible gifts of his expression.&nbsp; He used the set of pipes God gave him and gave us some beauty in an overwhelming world.

May he rest in peace and his closest loved ones be comforted.