You were a voice of my adolescence and rebellious youth and I loved you then. Since, you’ve had a constant ebb and flow in and out of my life and love of music, in the most beautiful sense, coming back in a new and beautiful form every time.

The morning I learned you had left us, just an hour south of me, was the most brutal of wake-up calls. This seemed so incredibly personal. You belong(ed) to us.

In a tragically beautiful way, time since has been spent rediscovering and reconnecting with you through music, and uncovering true genius in your songwriting I never knew (or fully appreciated) were there. I’m finding that with this tremendous and irreplaceable void that you’ve left behind, you’ve also allowed the silver linings to shine through in a way that is almost like finding a buried treasure or opening a Christmas gift a little here and there. I am grateful for that.

My own personal gift was hearing Soundgarden come on the radio just as I pass the Fox Theater as I tearfully point out to my daughter where you sang your last note. Was that you? Another gift was learning the same day I had finished “Ariel”, that you were a fan of Sylvia Plath. Little things, you know, they speak very loudly, and they are extraordinarily comforting.

After nearly eight months, the most heart-warming and heart-breaking aspect is to recall and find in a deeper sense what a genuine and kind soul you were- to everyone, in every way. I wish I could have known you. Luckily, through music, you’ve been there; for two-thirds of my life, through the waves of the lifeline that matters to me the most- my music, you were there. You are there.

I am grateful to have existed in this world with you in it. With all the love that this world has for you, you will live on forever.

Loud Love,
Angie Fox

Chris Cornell