APART from buying that one album "Bad" in cassette tape format way back in my freshman year in high school, I don't recall ever being a big fan of The Gloved One.

I think my fascination with him was more incidental to my huge childhood crush on Aga Muhlach, who used to sport that Michael Jackson porma and dance his pop songs circa mid-80s, the time of "Bagets," "Campus Beat," and "Ang Erpats Kong Forgets." Seriously.

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But when I heard of Michael Jackson's untimely demise on June 25, 2009, I also felt a somber twinge. The guy was not called The King of Pop for nothing. He is one of my generation's top icons, having produced, recorded, and sung many familiar songs I grew up with.

Over the weekend, major news and entertainment networks both local and on cable featured good documentaries on the life and career of Michael Jackson.

I have caught several portions of the documentaries featured on CNN and our own Kapuso network, and felt some level of sadness for the man's untimely demise.

I suddenly became a fan, albeit belatedly, after realizing that he has indeed produced great songs, most of which I grew up with and has become, at one time or another, part of my teenage (and probably early adulthood) heartaches, woes, and angst. It's just that I was more aware of the songs, not so much the singer.

But what struck an emotional chord in me was how this man possibly lived his life. He was constantly under cruel public scrutiny -- from his bitter childhood, to his physical appearance, to his sexual orientation.

The man has indeed gone through extreme highs and lows -- from having the world's best-selling album of all time ("Thriller," 1982) to being the target of several child sexual abuse accusations.

Although MJ settled the high-profile first case for millions of dollars, he never admitted guilt, and was later on acquitted as to the other counts. Nonetheless, the accusations have done his career much damage.

Imagine, if indeed untrue, how much of a damage it has done to his person.

Yet the sad thing is...has this man really gotten the chance to have a life? To be his own person? Constantly followed by the paparazzi wanting to photograph his every move, regularly surrounded by his crew, staff and musicians, as well as his personal assistants, was The Gloved One ever left alone?

I've noticed that in the documentaries, people presented as Michael Jackson's "close friends" cannot even describe him with particularity, with certainty. It is as if he always kept a part of himself unknown to others, even to those supposedly close to him.

That saddens me -- the idea of not being truly known, not being understood, and yet easily judged by others.

I am not saying Michael Jackson is definitely an innocent, good person. That is exactly the problem, no one seems to know. But death can elicit forgiveness in the hearts of those left behind, and we tend to remember more good things than bad about the departed.

I sincerely hope, though, that before MJ died, he spent great moments with his children that they can hold on to as long as they live.

Adieu, Moonwalker, the universe mourns your loss.

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