Today marks the tenth anniversary of David Bowie’s passing and that in itself feels rather strange to acknowledge. Ten years isn’t really that long, and yet it feels like the world has changed almost beyond recognition since then.

Growing up, I was never a fan of David Bowie’s music in the sense of actively seeking it out, but because I was born in the eighties, he was always there. His presence was constant, almost woven into the background of everyday life through radio, television, magazines and general pop culture.

And, of course, there was Labyrinth.

Even without listening particularly closely, he felt familiar. Everyone knew his name, his face, who he was and what he did, even if they couldn’t give specifics.

As I grew older, I started to take a little bit more of an interest. Some of his songs became familiar in my playlists (Life On Mars is still one of my favourites). My friend very kindly got The Bloke and I some tickets to see his sold-out costume exhibtion at London’s V&A Musuem in 2013, which was fascinating. But even then, I still couldn’t ever claim to be a real fan.

And yet, when he suddenly passed away in January 2016, it genuinely felt like a real loss.

What followed was a strange and heavy year. Bowie’s death was followed by Alan Rickman just four days later, and then what became seemingly a constant stream of people who had shaped UK and international culture, film and TV, sport, humour, music and storytelling being taken away in quick succession, including Prince, Harper Lee, Muhammad Ali, Sir George Martin, Victoria Wood, Leonard Cohen, Caroline Aherne, Sir Terry Wogan, Anton Yelchin to name just a few of the very long list, with George Michael passing away on Christmas Day, Carrie Fisher two days later, and her mother, Debbie Reynolds just 24 hours later.

And since then, came everything else. Brexit, a global pandemic that killed millions, multiple wars (that are still ongoing), an economy that feels permanently unstable, increasingly divisive politics, a constant background of tension and horrific events that led to multiple (and necessary) protests and movements… and it just feels like it’s getting worse.

None of this is because David Bowie died, obviously, but looking back, the timing feels rather oddly symbolic, as though his passing marked the start of a period where things stopped feeling steady and familiar and started feeling far more dark and uncertain.

And I’m not the only one who feels that way. In conversations I’ve had with family and friends, we’ve talked about how it feels like the world has fallen apart since Bowie passed away. I’ve also seen multiple discussions online and across social media over the years with others saying the same. In an interview back in August with the Hollywood Reporter, actor Gary Oldman (who was good friends with him) commented on it:

“And Dave … well, don’t you feel that since he died, the world’s gone to shit? It was like he was cosmic glue or something. When he died, everything fell apart. So, yeah, I miss him.”

Ten years later, David Bowie’s legacy very much lives on. And maybe that is why his absence still feels so noticeable: mot because he was responsible for what came after, but because the world could probably do with far more of what he represented to so many right about now.