A FANS STORY ABOUT MICHAEL'S RESTING PLACE

FROM HOLLY TERRACE, Michael's final resting place in The Grand Mausoleum at Forest Lawn Glendale, you look downhill from the porches upon acres of green rolling hills, as shown in the photo. The grounds are vast, serene, with trees of every size and variety. When I spent the day at the entrance to Holly Terrace, the autumn sun was warm, the air fresh, the vistas crystal clear, and soft breezes drifted quietly up the hill, so gentle and kind, like Michael.

I'm glad I had stopped at the information booth at the main entrance for directions when I first arrived. I told the man I'd come to pay my respects to Michael Jackson ... that I know we can't go inside but wanted to get as close as possible. He kindly marked the road on a map and told me where to park. He said to look closely through the windows of the entrance to Holly Terrace, look straight ahead to the end of the hall and I would see him there.

When I found the entrance doors, I was alone. I cupped my hands around my eyes and against the glass to look inside the windows. At first I could only see blackness and very faint light beginning to emerge from hanging lanterns, then a dim stained-glass window at the end of the hall and Gothic arches high up in the ceilings came into view and, finally, as my eyes adjusted to the dark, the pale surface of the marble crypt that holds the gold coffin in which our beloved Michael's body rests. The sense that I was in a sacred place came over me and I began to cry.

Moments later a woman came up with a bouquet of orange sunflowers and propped them on the door. "I come here about three times a week," she said. "I'd like to see more flowers here for Michael." I told her I wanted to bring flowers but didn't know where I could put them since we can't go inside. She said the guards will take gifts inside and put them by Michael.

"He is an angel, he's not just human. He is an angel," she said.

Later, a family came. Their little boy had a small bundle of flowers obviously picked from their own garden. He wanted to take them to Michael. There was mention of the intercom button by the door that says to ring it to be admitted. Of course, you can only go in if you are Michael's family or friends who are permitted. But that didn't stop the boy from pressing the button. A female voice answered immediately, and the boy said, "I'm a little boy, seven years old, and I want to see Michael! My family won't come in or take pictures or anything, I know they won't!" But of course he couldn't go in. My new friend said Michael would have loved that, so much did he love children. We told the boy if he left his flowers by the door, the guards would take them inside. So he did and they left.

Another family came, this time with their 11-year-old daughter sporting a sequined glove and MJ T-shirt. They didn't know they could look in the windows and see Michael's crypt. Discovering they could clearly had an effect on them. The girl went to the car and brought out a big poster of Michael (Thriller album cover with him in the white suit) she had just bought for $16. She'd bought it for herself, not Michael. But now she wanted to give it to him. We suggested she write a message to Prince, Paris, and Blanket and leave it by the door, which she did. At closing time, the guards took it inside, along with the flowers left by my friend and the little boy.

Others came and went occasionally. Most people don't know where to find Michael nor that you can look in and get a glimpse of his resting place beyond the heavily tinted windows. A guard (or two) walks the corridors inside all day long. When they leave and lock the door at 4:30, they stay parked outside until all visitors have left.

Michael is very protected. His visitors and fans must keep their distance, unless you have permission to go inside. Nevertheless, people come to visit; my friend has met people by his door who have come from Germany, Japan, Mexico City and other places around the world, just to pay homage to Michael. I feel privileged to have gotten as close as I did. And I plan on returning regularly to leave small tokens of my love and respect for him.

My new friend and I spoke of many things: Our views about his death. Our feelings. What Michael means to us personally. His music. His mission. His charitable work. His effect on individuals and the world. On what might have been.

There is a peace surrounding the castle-like mausoleum perched majestically above graceful lawns. A part of me wanted to sit in silence, alone, and listen to the quiet and experience this closeness in spirit that I felt with Michael. But wherever he is, those who love them will gather, like one big family joined by our love for this special human being.

As I left, I noticed the full moon hovering over Forest Lawn in a blue sky. I went to the opposite side of Holly Terrace to look at the stained-glass window, called The Ascension, from outside, knowing that Michael lay just on the other side of it, maybe 10 feet away from where I was standing. There I told Michael that his fans on twitter wanted to send all their love.

The sun was setting as I drove slowly past Michael. I didn't want to leave. I wanted to stay there all night, until the lights inside were turned off and all would be perfectly dark and silent. I didn't want to go back down into that other world where day-to-day life goes on with all its demands, confusion, pain, and lies.

I took the long way home, on winding roads through beautiful residential areas in the hills. The full moon was shining down in front of me all the way, and "Human Nature" and "I Just Can't Stop Loving You" on my This Is It CD were a fitting end to this day.

Never have I heard a voice like Michael's or felt this way about anyone. Those who love him know just what I mean. Michael lived life fully and courageously. Nothing and no one, though they tried, could break him or silence him. He's left us physically, but not without leaving a legacy that continues to change people's hearts. His voice will not be silenced; his music is immortal.

Thanks MJCool....