is there a word for what you feel when an icon of your youth dies?

There's been so much I've been meaning to update here:

• My husband is still unemployed, although he had a really good interview last week.
• He was diagnosed with sleep apnea and is now on a CPAP machine. He and I are both sleeping better. Looking back, I realize that much of the fog of our life is related to the fact that we've been sleep-deprived for years.
• I feel that I am beginning to re-energize professionally, both in my teaching and in my administrative work.

What's on my mind today, though, is two losses. Today, both Farrah Fawcett and Michael Jackson died. Fawcett's death was expected. She had anal cancer, which is typically caused by HPV. Since that is the cause of the dysplasia I had a couple years ago (and need to get checked for again!), I've felt a special connection to her struggle. I always liked her and was very impressed by her work in "The Burning Bed" and "Small Sacrifices." Watching her strength and courage in the documentary of her cancer struggle last month made me have even greater respect for her.

Jackson's death was completely unexpected and was due to cardiac arrest. He was such an amazing performer. Although there was so much weirdness with him in what we saw of his personal life, his singing and dancing were absolutely incredible, filled with passion and energy and a talent beyond what I will ever see again.

So here I am, watching the CNN coverage of the deaths of the two biggest icons of my youth. I am oddly shaken. It is so easy for people to dismiss the value of the performing arts. Yet when I listen to the people on the news and read my friends' Facebook status updates, it strikes me how good performers reach into our hearts and souls. Although I don't think about Michael Jackson on a daily basis, he was part of the images and cartoons and sounds of my youth. He was part of my culture, and now he is gone.

They were both part of the backdrop of my growing up years, and I feel like a youthful part of me had died with them. I feel much more middle-aged now than I did when I woke up this morning.

May they rest in peace.