The anniversary of Biggie's death, March 9, 1997, always hits me like a ton of bricks. I've both rejoiced and lamented his existence for the last 25 years. It's been sad, but an honor, to speak in films and on panels; to attend hood parties, galas, and showcases; and even to write about his tragic death and subsequent legend status.
I was one of the few music writers to publish a reaction piece on our website to the news of his death when it happened, back when VIBE was still in print. It was a terrible blow to our industry, but it was even more tragic to his family, friends, and loved ones. I've had the great opportunity of witnessing the demise of Big and Junior Mafia firsthand. It was a sight to witness going to the same Brooklyn high school (Sarah J. Hale HS) as J.M. members. For a block-hugging person like myself who wanted to break into the entertainment world, the Bad Boy jackets, video show appearances, and random spottings were often motivating.
Big demonstrated how any dream, no matter how far flung, can be realized. Dreams, on the other hand, come at a cost, and sometimes that payment is your life. Tupac Shakur, Big's one-time friend, was assassinated just a few months before Big's death. The swirl of conspiracies, beef rumors, and alleged government involvement masked an already hazy perception of an insider's perspective and a casual hip-perspective hopper's on what was going on.
There were no clear-cut solutions, and there aren't any now. Only the painfully close proximity of both artists' death anniversaries every year. Lil Cease must make his rounds, Lil Kim must answer a slew of questions, Faith must speak to media outlets, and Big's children must smile in front of artwork bearing his likeness. So many in his orbit now find it difficult, if not impossible, to honor his memory, but this should not be the case.
For the first time in a long time, I listened to Ready To Die in its entirety for the first time, and I was struck by how fantastic Big still sounds after all these years. In the early weeks of my freshman year in college, his debut album was released. I saw him a lot on Fulton Street. In 1995, he partied with J.M., Mary J. Blige, Diddy, and a slew of other celebrities at a New York hotspot. Those were the days. However, as much as we adore him, I can't get over the reality that he's not here to love on his children and now grandson, as his daughter Tyanna is a new mother (Congrats!).
When you hear him rap about his daughter, it's that bit that stings the most. His delight was palpable, and he was intent on getting to the bag so he could provide a better life for his children. Despite the melancholy implied by the titles Ready To Die and Life After Death, Big genuinely wished for his children to live and thrive.
Big's ultimate desire came fulfilled after his spirit ascension, thanks to Tyanna, a full-fledged clothing brand designer and businesswoman, and his son CJ, a cannabis company owner in his own right. Even in the face of catastrophe, his words were fulfilled—all it's okay, baby-baby.
