OPINION: Strange to shed tears for Starman?

AN ICON: David Bowie left a powerful legacy behind him, through his music and non-conforming personas.

For lovers of film and classic rock, 2016 has not got off to a great start.

Within weeks of each other, musicians David Bowie and Lemmy Kilmister and actors Alan Rickman and Sir Christopher Lee died, the first three from cancer.

David Bowie's death, in particular, triggered an outpouring of grief -- with fans leaving heartfelt tributes on social media and attending public vigils playing his signature tunes -- including a film night in Martinborough last weekend.

Bowie was certainly an icon. From his distinctive vocals to his flamboyant, gender-bending persona, and to his sinister but strangely loveable portrayal of the Goblin King in The Labyrinth.

It is always sad when a person dies before their time and when a voice of a generation is silenced -- but I can't say I joined friends of mine in their visceral sorrow for Bowie's passing.

In fact, with the exception of Robin Williams (because of his struggle with mental illness), I can't say I have ever mourned for a celebrity.

Collective grief for a noteworthy person is an interesting phenomenon. It has certainly been derided and criticised.

UK journalist Camilla Long came under fire for a post on Twitter, telling Bowie fans to "man the f*** up" and lamenting "the utter insincerity of social media grief". After Robin Williams' death, journalists criticised the flood of social media tributes to the comedian, saying "it made death feel cheap".

Even in the days before social media, those who mourned Princess Diana were criticised for their "crocodile tears" for a person they'd never met.

Fair call -- but I don't think it's up to us to dictate how a person "should" be feeling when a hero falls.

We grow up with our public figures -- especially in this instantaneous digital age, where a click of a mouse fills our room with their art.

The make up the patchwork of our memories -- a Queen song lifted our spirits, a Nirvana song spoke to our feelings of anger and displacement, we watched Aladdin and Mrs Doubtfire over and over again as kids.

They were a comfort -- especially Bowie, who showed a generation of people who didn't fit in that it was okay to be themselves.

Plus, we are reminded of our own mortality. Our heroes' losses are a wake-up call to the realities of addiction, mental illness, cancer and just plain old age. Bowie said it best: "time may change me, but I can't change time".

We are a culture which is not comfortable with loss and mourning. But grief is not rational or intellectual, and not something we can will away by a few indignant tweets.

One thing that is undeniable is that our sadness for people like Bowie is testament to a life well lived, which captivated the masses and changed people for the better. That is worthy of celebration.