I was sad when David Bowie died because he was part of my youth and it was a sign of my own mortality too.
Bowie's death has been the one that saddened (and still saddens) me the most. Our paths crossed in his Beckenham Arts Lab days, when some art students I knew wanted to set up something similar in Croydon, around the time Space Oddity was released. He was an almost-local hero, and we spent most of a Sunday afternoon queueing to be make sure we got in to see him play in a room above a pub.
His albums have been the soundtrack to my life, and any Bowie track takes me back to where, and when, and who and what...
They day I got Black Star, I played it in the car on the way home, thinking "Fantastic, but dark". We listened to it at home that evening, talking about how it carried a sense of foreboding. The following morning, it was announced that he'd died. I can't listen to it now, just thinking about it makes me feel sort of - well, desolate, I suppose. His music was just always there.
Other deaths (John Lennon, which was such a shock, Prince, Caroline Aherne, Kirsty Macoll*, Amy Winehouse, Linda Smith, Ian Dury, Jeremy Hardy immediately spring to mind) have made me sad, but sad in the sense that I'll miss their work, and that they had so much more great work to give. Bowie's death felt more personal, and visceral, and gave me a real sense of my own mortality.
*I knew two people who'd played in Kirsty's first band and were also connected with the same crowd of art students through which I'd met Bowie. Weird, huh?