I did meet Jenni Rivera once. For all of 12 seconds that is. I know it was exactly 12 seconds because I recorded our conversation with a video camera. She was gracing the red carpet in all of her glory. A beautiful black dress cinching those caderas, that signature thick and brownish mane of hers falling ever so smoothly past her shoulders and down her espalda. She was the Jenni Rivera I was expecting. Larger than life. Smiling. Happy. Enamored by her fans. And her fans, even more enamored by her. Chanting her name actually, at the first sight of her arrival. ¡Jenni! ¡Jenni! ¡Jenni! I couldn’t help but join in.
¿Diva un momento please? ¿Diva un momento please?
Then it happened. She turned and acknowledged me for all of 12 seconds.
It was earlier this year at the Billboard Latin Music Awards, and despite how star struck I was then, I never would have imagined those 12 seconds between us would haunt me the way they do now.
I never would have imagined that seven months later our Jenni Rivera would be gone.
I won’t say that I am mourning. I’m sad, yes. But I don’t believe it’s my place to mourn. Her children, her parents, her close friends and those who actually knew her are the ones entitled to mourn her. The rest of us, all we are left to do is pay our respects. To respectfully let this family grieve and go through whatever it is they need to go through privately. La Gran Señora, La Diva De La Banda, Ms. Jenni Rivera, she was ours. The daughter, the mother, the wife, the friend, the comadre, Jenni Rivera, she was never ours for the taking. I can’t even imagine the pain her children must be going through. It breaks my heart to hear that all five of her children are now without a mother. What can I say that will make any of this make any sense at all?
Jenni, our brief 12 seconds were too short. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you then how much of a Gran Señora I actually always considered you to be.
Que descances en paz, Diva.
I’s so sorry for our loss.