In a New York minute, Time Square filled with saddened fans, many of whom expressed shock, not at Bennett's death, but at his prior living status. One flabbergasted passerby confessed, "I had no idea he was still alive. I thought Sinatra took him with him. But, you know, he did leave his heart in San Francisco."
Across the pond, a British tourist added, "I had him on my 2005 dead pool list, lost 50 quid, I did. This really is shocking news."
Meanwhile, a noticeably younger fan of Bennett's Duets series confessed, "I just thought his collaborations were like the Tupac albums that keep appearing. You know, unreleased material? Still, though, sad day."
In the heartland, a diner cook shook his head and muttered, "Man, I thought he was just a character in those old 'Looney Tunes' cartoons. Now I feel bad for not knowing he was real. My condolences to his family."
Indeed, it seems Tony Bennett's death has become less of a mourning period and more of a communal enlightenment, a public service announcement from the grave: "Yes, I was still alive. But not anymore."
The 'I Left My Heart in San Francisco' singer's enduring career, spanning over seven decades, seemed to have gone unnoticed in the last few years as people questioned his existence rather than celebrating his legacy.
While the nation mourns the loss of a remarkable artist, it simultaneously grapples with the realization that he was still alive until this morning. The next time we find our hearts in San Francisco, we'll remember the crooner who gave voice to our feelings, while we remind ourselves that he was, indeed, still alive - until he wasn't.