by Jason Lee
In a sad way, I can say I don’t miss her. Not to be calloused, I just don’t have any regret for anything, and I don’t wish things were different. I just resolved to move on.
***
In my time in L.A., I had developed many instrumental relationships over the years. I was still in contact with Dana (Queen Latifah) and I valued how she gave me a taste of the entertainment industry by allowing me to shadow her on the set of “Living Single.” It was great being exposed to all the behind-the-scenes work, and I knew that I wanted to work in that industry somehow. I also wanted to be an entrepreneur, so I spent some time trying to feel out how I could couple my love for Hollywood with my entrepreneurial desire. I didn't know what area of the business I wanted to get into, so when I first got to LA, I started hanging out on the scene. I became friends with Rob Kardashian, Chris Brown, and Rasaul Butler. We would party all the time, and I would be the plug—the guy who knew how to get access to certain things and certain people. People were big on being relevant in certain social circles and being relevant enough to get a little Paparazzi attention, so people would pay me just to host their parties.
A couple of weeks after my mother died, I was back home for her funeral when I had received a call from Kelly Price, who was also on three-way with Faith Evans. Kelly asked me if I'd be willing to help her put together a party to celebrate her Grammy nominations. I have always been a fan of Kelly Price, and Faith Evans was my favorite R&B singer, but initially, I was a little reluctant. I thought that Kelly was a little dated for what I was trying to do with my time, although she was talented.
I wasn’t sure about the idea, but I said, “If we did a ‘Heartbreak Hotel’ reunion with Whitney Houston, I think it could be iconic.” The ladies hadn’t been together since they did the song. I reached out to Raffles van Exel, who was close to Whitney, Michael Jackson, and Prince, and I asked him if he could put me in touch with Whitney Houston to see if she would come to the event. He called her and Whitney said that she would come. I was geeked.
A week before the event, my friend, “Freckles,” called and said, “Hey, I need you to come meet me somewhere.”
“What's up?” I inquired.
She just insisted that I meet her where she specified. I didn’t ask any more questions, I just went to meet her. When I arrived, Freckles said, “Take a walk with me real quick.”
I started walking with her; by that time I was a little antsy about where she was taking me.
“Where the hell are we going?” I asked again. She led me to a club called “Playhouse.” When we got there, Ray J pulled up in a fancy car, and I just looked at her like, You fucking brought me out to the club for Ray J? Really? I don't understand where the surprise is.
This was in 2012, way before “Love & Hip-Hop,” so I didn’t have any ties or connections to Ray J.
Freckles said, “Come with me inside the club.”
Curiously, I followed her inside the club, and we walked over to the VIP area. Whitney Houston was sitting there. I tried to hold my composure but I was thinking, Oh shit, it's Whitney! I had no idea what to do. I was just so excited, and I was trying to think of a way to introduce myself. Wow, what do I say? Do I go up to Whitney?
Whitney's goddaughter recognized me, and said, “Hey, I know who you are. I'm Amber, Whitney's goddaughter."
“Okay, nice to meet you!” I replied.
“I want to introduce you to my godmother.”
I smiled and said, “Okay.”
She walked me over to Whitney, and then Whitney looked me over. She said, “So you're doing this party?”
“Yeah,” I confirmed.
She crossed her legs, leaned toward me and said, “Tell me who all is coming.”
I gave her a list of everyone who had confirmed, “Ledisi, Kelly Price, Faith Evans, Keke Wyatt, Anthony Hamilton—"
“Damn, that's a lot of fucking power in one room!” Whitney interjected.
“Yeah, and we'd be honored if you'd come.” I took the opportunity to reel her in.
“I'm definitely going to come,” she told me. I lit up.
“Cool.”
The day of the event, Whitney called me directly to confirm her attendance but to also ask me more specifics about the event and the performers. I was a little nervous because I didn’t want her to change her mind if I told her something she didn’t like.
“I don't want to walk the red carpet,” she continued, “and I don't want to perform. I just want to slip in and be there to support.”
I said, “Okay, yeah. No problem, no pressure.”
I was disappointed. Of course, we really wanted her to perform, and we wanted her to be there on the red carpet on stage. I had been working with the Kardashians for a while, and that project was a flop, so I was hoping that this event would have been my “big break.” To have a legend grace the stage for just a moment would have been golden. And to sing? It would have been as iconic as I had hoped.
That night, a person from Whitney’s entourage called me and said, “Okay, Whitney's a few blocks away.”
“Okay, great,” I answered. I had met up with Pat Houston, Whitney’s sister-in-law and manager, and told her how excited I was that Whitney was coming and how much of a fan I was. Pat and I clicked instantly.
When Whitney pulled up, the whole red carpet, all the photographers, and everybody else ran over to her car to try and take pictures of her. She rolled the window down and said, “Hold up! I want to make sure that I look good. Can you please get these cameras away from the car?”
“Absolutely,” I responded. She looked beautiful, but I followed her directive. I turned to the photographers and said, “If you're not on the red carpet, we're going to pull your credentials, and we're going to ask you to leave.” They tucked those cameras away and they all ran back to the carpet.
Whitney looked at me, smiled, and said, “Yo, I fuck with him. I like him!”
I said, “Yeah, me and Pat—we bonded while you were on your way. We're all family now.”
“Oh okay. We're family?” she laughed. “Okay! Well since you were able to get everybody in check, I'm going to walk your carpet.”
“Okay, cool,” I blushed. I’m sure she saw how glad I was, and at that point, there was no sense in trying to play it cool. Whitney Houston was about to walk my red carpet. She fixed her hair and got out of the car. Then she and Bobbi Kristina walked the red carpet and talked to everybody; they were really nice. Shortly after, we escorted them to their section. Whitney wanted a bottle of champagne, so I had someone run to the store to get the exact brand she wanted, Dom Perignon. Later that evening, she went upstairs, and we put her on the side of the stage. Somewhere during the middle of the evening, Kelly Price started talking about her. Whitney walked up on stage with Kelly, and then she sang “Jesus Loves Me.” I was floored. She told me that she didn’t want to walk the red carpet and that she didn’t want to sing, and she had done both. Everyone was eating it up. There was a minor altercation between her and another person, but I didn’t see it. The night was amazing, and I was basking in all the work that I had done. I was looking forward to building a relationship with Whitney and my mind was cloudy with ways that we could connect again.
The next day, I was on a high because I felt like I had a successful event. I convinced Whitney Houston to come out, and everybody was talking about it. It was a live music event. Later Don Benjamin and I went to the Roc Nation brunch, but we weren’t on the list. I told them that I worked for Vibe Magazine and that Don Benjamin was an artist for Interscope Records. Then we created a Gmail account for somebody who worked at Roc Nation, and we used that fake email address to create a fake confirmation. By this time, I was a professional at sneaking in places I didn’t belong. I had a new set of skills since trying to see Queen Latifah backstage at the local fair all those years ago. I wouldn’t have gone through all the trouble just to attend a brunch, but our whole reason for sneaking in was so that we could see Rihanna. After we met Rihanna, we left
and headed to the Adidas Gifting Lounge, and I got a call from my barber.
“Hey, where are you at?” he asked as soon as I answered.
I said, “I'm in the car.
He paused and then continued, “You're not going to believe what happened. Whitney Houston just died. It's not on the news yet, but I just got a call from somebody's who's at the hotel. She's dead.”
“There’s no fucking way,” I snapped. She died getting ready for Clive Davis's party that night. I had just seen her at my party the night before.
“No, she’s dead, bro,” my barber reiterated. “It's getting ready to break. She’s dead.”
We went into crisis management mode and it became a media frenzy.
I was still working with the Kardashians, and the only person I could think to call was Kris Jenner.
“Kris, I've never been in the middle of anything like this. It's just very overwhelming. I'm getting calls from every media outlet, and everybody's trying to find out what happened. The narrative that's out there is not true.”
Kris put me on a three-way call with the president of E!, Suzanne Kolb. Suzanne and I went down to meet with the vice president of E! News to discuss the night of my event. I was able to give them the correct narrative for them to put in their specials and breaking news stories about Whitney’s death. Kris Jenner was instrumental in helping me do that, and if it wasn’t for her, I don’t know how I would have been able to navigate through that tragedy.
When she passed away, there was such a firestorm in the media about whether she was on drugs, whether she died of a drug overdose, her last 24 hours, and a bunch of other questions. There were so many speculations about her life and about what she and Bobbi Kristina were doing. I had to file a cease and desist order on Kelly Price from talking about the event and talking about Whitney. I also sent a cease and desist out to all the people who worked for me that night. I went to the club and made sure they deleted all the tapes and any footage they had of Whitney. I did my best to protect that last 24 hours.
My team filmed everything, and we still haven't released the footage of that event. A year later, we did an event to honor her and Queen Latifah—everybody came out. Jordin Sparks, who was in Sparkle with Whitney Houston, hosted and performed at the event. We had performances from Lil' Mo, Kim Burrell, and a lot of other artists who also wanted to honor her. Even after that event, we never released that footage. We did a really good job of protecting her image and defending her against all the rumors, so in a way, I feel honored that I was able to spend that last day with her.
What’s crazy is the fact that I was impacted by the deaths of two women within the same time period: my mom and Whitney Houston. Whitney’s death had caused me more grief and unease than my mother’s. I had met Whitney just weeks before her last day on earth, and I had done more to honor and protect her than I had done for my mother throughout my entire life. That’s when I really knew that the negative impact of my mother’s parenting would follow me well beyond her death. Despite everything that she had done, or not done, my mother taught me the power of forgiveness. I learned that just because I forgave her, it doesn’t mean that what she did was okay. It also doesn’t mean that I should pretend that she didn’t hurt me or that my feelings weren’t valid. It means that I won’t let what she did continue to negatively influence me. I learned that forgiving people has nothing to do with them, but everything to do with me. I chose to no longer be paralyzed by unforgiveness.
10 Sobriety and Fatherhood
Though I had immersed myself in other projects and events, I still hadn’t learned how to properly process and deal with Rodney’s death. There was a duality to my grieving process. Externally, I figured out how to be productive and be all that my brother believed I could be—things that would make him proud. Internally, I was destructive, gaining weight, drinking heavily, not having a proper diet—not taking care of myself. My mental health took a huge backseat. The first 10 years after my brother died, I consumed myself with two full-time jobs and partying a lot. I woke up, I went to work, I went to my second job, I came home, I partied, I passed out. I was also promiscuous. Alcohol was numbing all the pain and sex was making me feel good. It was all very toxic.
I did that for 10 years. I had to press that depressive shit down.
I didn’t understand how much damage I was doing to myself. I would get drunk and become “the life of the party,” but I was really a reckless drunk that acted out and did things that the sober Jason wouldn’t do. I became an alcoholic. For years, I drank excessively, and I hated what I was becoming. I started to wonder if addiction was just a part of who I was because my mother had struggled with the same thing. Of course not. I wasn't a crackhead. Anybody who knows me knows I would never do what I perceived as reckless drugs: heroin, cocaine, crack … meth. I would never do those things. I've done molly and ecstasy once or twice. I didn't see alcohol the same way I saw my mother’s drugs, even though I used alcohol for the same reason—escapism.
Then I finally realized that I couldn’t go on living this way. I came to that conclusion while I was watching “Oprah” when Dr. Phil was still a part of the show. There was a lady whose daughter had been killed, and she said she wanted to go on the Oprah show to tell her daughter's story. My heart bled for her as she recalled her experience coping with waking up every morning and not being able to hold her daughter or hear her laughter. Then Oprah asked her a question that really challenged me—she presented a crossroad to both myself and that woman.
“What's next?” That was extremely hard to answer for myself. What really was next for me?
The woman responded, “Well, my plan was to come here and tell my daughter’s story, and then go back home and kill myself.”
That struck a chord. I recalled my own depression and suicidal thoughts. I remember the days when all I did was cry because I didn’t know what was next for me or how I could get past what had happened.
Dr. Phil then asked, “Why are you choosing to remember the one day she died instead of celebrating the 18 years she lived?” That stung me. I had forgotten all the memories with Rodney and had replaced them with the grief of his death. I focused on the fallout of my family and the isolation I felt in grieving by myself. We didn't even grieve as a family at all, so I didn’t know who to turn to reminisce about the good times and keep the memories of my brother’s life present. That show was what I needed to continue with my life. I was able to start focusing more on the memories of Rodney that were positive, and I was grieving less. I still get emotional thinking about Rodney, but I don't live it every day. It's a gradual process.
***
The next step in my healing process was sobriety. I was devastated at how Whitney died, and the fact that she was gone that quickly after I had just seen her was sobering. I wasn’t really public with my decision to be sober, but before my 90-day mark, I was invited to the National Alcohol Beverage Control Association (NABCA) Annual Conference. It was a meeting of all of the alcohol brands in the world.
I remember flying out to the conference and thinking, I've been sober for 90 days, and I'm really proud of myself. This is going to be a big test for me.
I attended the conference in Las Vegas, and all was well. Then I got a call from my friend who told me that Grey Goose was having a party and to meet him at the hotel. I was at a crossroads. I had already been invited to one alcohol-centric event; attending another one would be pushing it. I threw caution to the wind and said, “Okay, I'm on my way.”
When I got to the party, I was sweating like a sinner in church. The party was lit: I saw so many familiar faces and the excitement of it all really made me want to soak up the moment. There were drinks in abundance, but I still had some conviction about my commitment to sobriety. I turned down the first few drinks I was offered, but then I met the owners Grey Goose—they asked me to have a drink with them. I wanted to tell them that I had been sober for the past 90 days, but that would have sounded dumb as hell. Why would I be a
t a party thrown by Grey Goose, an alcoholic beverage company, if I was trying to avoid drinking? It was the same as being off crack for 90 days but chilling in a crack house. I was honored to be invited to drink with the Grey Goose ballers, and I felt that it would have been rude to turn down their invitation.
Well, if I have one drink, nobody will know, I convinced myself. I promised myself that I wouldn’t get drunk, and I had two drinks. Right after I finished the second drink, Dana text me and said, “I just want to let you know, you're my hero.”
I said, “What do you mean?”
She elaborated, "The fact that you've been able to go sober, and I'm dealing with my own sobriety, I really respect you." I was devastated. I was thinking, Damn, she admires me for being sober and she doesn’t even know what I’m doing. I'm fucking up over here.
Dana was so supportive of my journey to sobriety that she even offered to go to an AA meeting with me. She wanted to go for both of us. I never took her up on that because my mother, who was a drug addict and an alcoholic, also went to AA. It didn’t change her one bit. Also, I wasn’t comfortable sitting around a room with a bunch of strangers talking about my inward struggles and how I used alcohol to cope. That wasn’t me. After those two drinks, I had gone two years without drinking alcohol, and I felt so accomplished. Alcohol was no longer my “drug of choice,” and I had figured out how to enjoy it without abusing it.
***
Before she died, my mother and I still had a bruised and battered relationship, so I didn’t talk to her much. My visits to the convalescent home were the most we’d spoken in years because I didn’t deal with her. When I was about 17 years old, she had given birth to another son. For eight years, I didn’t really interact with him. Seeing him meant seeing my mother, and that was just something I wasn’t too thrilled about. My mother had been clean for some time, but then she relapsed. My brother was going to be sent into foster care once CPS had discovered what was going on in their home. I knew that I couldn’t allow that, so at 25, I became a full-time father to an eight-year-old boy.
