While it's kind of crazy to think about it, today is what would have been 2pac's38th birthday. I say it's crazy because there's no way Pac could have ever lived that long. Despite the fact that he was murdered, and in a lot of ways, the world was robbed of one of the greatest hip-hop poets to ever walk the earth, Pac lived so strongly and so boldly that he accomplished more in 25 years than most people can accomplish in 65. It wasn't his fate to live into his 30s, and I can't even imagine what a mature 2pac would look like at 38-years-old. I'm curious if I'd even want to see it. But that's the selfish me talking. The "Pac died as a martyr" side of my youth will probably always be there.
I can clearly think of one person who would definitely love to see a 38-year-old Tupac Shakur living and breathing right now: his mother. And it's always sad to think about parents who have to bury their children because it's supposed to be the other way around. Yet Afeni Shakur lives on and I send love and prayers out to her today, on what should be her son's 38th birthday.
When I think of all my favorite 2pac songs (and I've got a bunch), "Dear Mama" is my favorite. Hip-hop isn't supposed to make you cry, but this one gets me every time without fail. Somewhere in the middle of the song (and maybe somebody else can relate to this) I just zone out an think of my own mom. Next thing you know it's all chopped onions and Niagara Falls. I miss this guy.