Next week, on July 25, exactly a month after Michael Jackson's death, the Weekly will issue a special edition about the legend and his legacy.

I was in New York on June 25 when I visited for the first time the home my sister and her husband had bought. Attempting to humor me while she started to make dinner, she turned on the TV and the BBC came on, reporting? on "unconfirmed reports" that Michael Jackson was dead. A news helicopter shot images of the UCLA hospital where hundreds gathered to await word from doctors. It was just before 3 p.m. in Los Angeles, 6 p.m. in New York and 7 a.m. in Tokyo.

I was never a fan of Michael Jackson, never had any of his albums, but I had an awkward feeling, as if his death at 50 were something doomed yet tragic. Perhaps we fail to appreciate until it is too late.