Much like the loss of forces like Michael Jackson, Nipsey Hussle, Whitney Houston, Kobe Bryant, and DMX —I mean, the list goes on… The moment I got the news will forever be ingrained in my brain, and I’m thankful that I didn’t have to learn the news through social media. Instead, a friend shared it with me, and I was able to avoid the internet altogether for the rest of the day because it truly floored me. I’m still devastated. Fifty-one is such a young age.

It’s human nature to feel a unique connection to artists when you’re a big fan, but my connection to D’Angelo feels different, because it feels like home. In a lot of ways, he was that for me, and probably so many others. Firstly, as someone from Dinwiddie, Virginia, where the area code is 804, and he being born and raised right up the road in Richmond, Virginia, of the same area code, he was a hometown hero—someone to be proud of and call our very own.

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His music was something like soul food, but for the ears.

Moreover, as a kid, when I realized that he was from Richmond, a place I had frequented often during my childhood thanks to my cousins who lived on the Southside, it solidified that anything was possible if you just dared to put yourself out there, chase your dreams, and believe that they could become a reality. I grew up listening to D’Angleo, so his music helped shape the type of music lover I’ve become. As a kid of the ‘90s, born in 1992 to be exact, I had no idea what he was talking about in those songs at the time. Still, I knew that it sounded good, it was soothing, just like my late great-grandmother’s fried chicken and rolls (I can still remember what it tastes like despite her passing in 2006). I guess you could say his music is like soul food to me in a way — soothing and comforting (without some of its unhealthy side effects, of course). I find a sense of comfort when listening to him, I always have, and always will.

When I moved to Richmond for college and stayed during my early 20s, I continued to listen to D’Angelo, but this time, I understood what those lyrics meant. Many songs became a soundtrack to my emotions and feelings around love, desire, and overall connection. I read somewhere that someone said he was Black romance personified, and boy, that hit the nail right on the head.

Now that I think about it, there hasn’t been a time in my life when I didn’t listen to D’Angelo, and for that, I am very grateful.

In July of this year, my friend Christian Carter and I held an event at Le Cache Dulcet, a Black-owned coffee and vinyl spot on Broad Street in Richmond, owned by Patrick Weaver. For a few hours on a rainy Wednesday evening, we jammed to Brown Sugar alongside avid music lovers. Locals even shared stories about their personal connection to the Virginia legend, something we called him then and will continue to refer to him as until the end of time. We chose that date, just a few days after the 30th anniversary of his debut album, which was primarily written and recorded on a four-track from his bedroom in Richmond, VA.

That night was filled with so much joy, community, and love. It also hits very differently now, knowing that he was fighting a private battle with pancreatic cancer. I hope that his spirit felt the love circulating throughout the walls of that space that night; it’s definitely a core memory for me.

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We not only listened to the music, but had an honest discussion about his artistry, with me doing that thing I have a habit of doing and sharing every fun fact that I knew with hopes that those on the receiving found as fascinating as I did when I first landed on little nuggets of information like the fact that D’Angelo was once a member of a hip hop group named I.D.U. (Intelligent, Deadly but Unique) or that his first significant success came by “U Will Know,” a track performed by the all-male R&B super group, Black Men United, which was featured on the Jason’s Lyric soundtrack. He was a co-producer on the song and wrote it alongside his brother, Luther Archer.

As I was doing further research for the night, it dawned upon me that I was all of two years old when Brown Sugar came out, which means, again, D’Angelo’s music is very much a part of my DNA, and that has helped me to find solace during this time.

Though I never had the pleasure of meeting him, I’d always hoped that a chance encounter would happen back home and our paths would cross. Even more, now that I’ve grown up to be a journalist, he has always been at the top of my dream interview list; maybe that’s another part of the reason why I’ve had quite some difficulty processing his passing.

There are so many life lessons we can draw from him.

Beyond just music, in my eyes, D’Angelo has always served as the personification of self-preservation. A man of such mystery and allure, never conforming to the current ways of the world, where every single second of a person’s life is often shared across social media, especially if you’re a celebrity. I find his ability to remain under the radar despite being a force to be quite admirable. It serves as a reminder that people can enjoy what we offer without needing the intimacy required to be a human being navigating life's highs and lows. We saw and heard from D’Angelo on his terms, not ours, and there’s a valuable lesson in that.

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Maybe that was also the Aquarian in him, but Aquarius (my moon sign btw) being his sun sign makes so much sense because they’re referred to as “the water bearer,” the symbol for the zodiac sign, which includes an image of a person pouring water from a vessel, representing the water of knowledge, ideas, and emotional support being bestowed upon the world.

He channeled the Black experience.

If you’ve listened to any of his music, interviews, or had the liberty of watching his Devil’s Pie documentary around the making of his sophomore album, Voodoo, like I did. You know that this is eerily accurate of our brother D’Angelo. Born to a Pentecostal minister, the late Luther Archer Sr., and the grandson of the late Elder Linberg Cox of Refuge Assembly Church in Richmond, Virginia, there’s a reason why D’Angelo’s music and presence were otherworldly and often deemed a spiritual experience.

“D’Angelo was the truth, plain and funky,” said funk legend and pioneer, who the “Lady” singer cited alongside his bands Funkadelic and Parliament as a significant influence on his music.

He penned a heartfelt tribute to the singer, saying that “He didn’t just make music – he channeled the ancestors, he bent time, and he put that soul on wax like nobody else. That cat had church in his chords, grit in his groove, and funk in his DNA.

“We lost more than a musician — we lost a vessel of vibration, a brother who carried the torch for everything raw, real, and rooted,” Clinton concluded. “Rest in Power, D’. The Mothership’s got a seat for you and me, and I know you’ll keep the jam going up there. Funk eternal. Love eternal.”

There’s a reason why D’Angelo was given the gift of not only being able to sing a song the way that he did, but there isn’t a single song in his catalog where you cannot feel all of him on the track. If you pay close attention to the intricacies of the music, it seems like he didn’t end a song unless he’d bared his entire soul – if that isn’t the definition of vessel, channeling something greater than self, I don’t know what is.

I could go on and on, but I’ll leave you all with this — on my flight back in from New York this morning, I couldn’t hold back the tears when “Send It On” came on my shuffle. I let them flow because I’d like to think that as he completes his transition to become an ancestor, he would be happy with the outpouring of love and knowing just how much his artistry touched those who loved him in many ways.

He never allowed anyone to put him in a box; instead, I confidently say that he gave it his all across three brilliant bodies of music and countless other tracks. He never wanted to claim the role of being a pioneer in the neo-soul music. In fact, he told The Guardian in 2014, “I don’t want to disassociate, and I respect it for what it is, but any time you put a name on something, you put it in a box.” To huge applause from the audience, he added, “I never claimed I do neo soul. When I first came out, I said, I do black music.”

D’Angelo had the kind of soul that lives on forever. Peace to his family, loved ones, and the countless fans he made feel at home through his raw, honest, and damn good expressions of the Black experience. Job well done.