Today I mourn the death of an old friend, someone I’ve known consciously and unconsciously since I was a year old.

The King of Pop. Michael Jackson.

I guess what  hit me so hard is two things; one is the fact that he died the exact same way as my sister — cardiac arrest, followed by futile resuscitation. The other is the fact that at one point, my sister had plans to marry him. But whatever it is, it hurts. Bad. I lost it, sobbing for him, my sister, his mother and his family.

One of my earliest memories is the 8-track tape of the Jackson 5’s Maybe Tomorrow sitting next to my parent’s stereo. I also remember watching the Jackson 5 cartoon on Saturday morning and commericals for Alpha Bets cereal featuring the group.

I remember going to the Metro Theaters with my mom and sister to see The Wiz, where Michael, as the Scarecrow, stole the show with the song, “You Can’t Win.”

Then there was junior high, when the Off the Wall album came out, serving as the background music for a friend’s party (the guy I had a crush on was singing the song “Girlfriend”).

In high school, Motown 25 came on, and my family gathered around the TV to see Michael join hands with Jermaine after their feud and do the Moonwalk (which I learned last night was actually pioneered by one of the members of the group, Shalimar, but I digress).

The legendary Victory Tour launched in my hometown. The town was abuzz about being the center of the universe with the arrival of the Jacksons. And my sister sang ”Ben” over and over  in tribute to a guy she had a crush on (the Steve Harvey show played the song today and I of course I fell apart again).

In college, a friend and I saw him during the Bad tour and, of course, Michael stood and delivered. Here recently I’ve gotten misty-eyed over the State Farm commercial featuring “I’ll be There.”

I laughed with Eddie Murphy did his bit about Michael getting choked up during a song — “Tito hand me a tissue; Jermaine, stop teasing.” And I rolled when Chris Rock talked about your interview with Ed Bradley “Get off the stage you nutty . . .” well, never mind.

Michael had his problems, and we hurt along with him. But despite the pain, he was man enough to keep his head up and move forward.

When all is said and done, Michael is ours.

He won’t be replaced