This isn’t a performance, nor is it a chapter written for applause — this is Micky Dolenz, bowed in silence at the funeral of Connie Francis. Behind him, candles flicker against a framed portrait of the woman whose voice once filled dance halls and living rooms with long He wears the weight of black not just on his shoulders, but in his eyes — lowered, heavy with memories of a time when music was young, when voices like Connie’s defined what it meant to dream. The inset photograph of their youth, two artists caught in a tender embrace of time, is not merely nostalgia — it is proof of the bonds forged in the fire of an era that believed in both melody and meaning. Now, surrounded by flowers and stillness, Micky isn’t the last surviving Monkee, nor a man of fame. He is simply a mourner, standing in reverence for a friend whose journey through heartbreak, resilience, and song will echo far beyond her final rest.
phil A FINAL GOODBYE: MICKY DOLENZ BOWS IN SILENCE AT THE FUNERAL OF CONNIE FRANCIS This isn’t a performance, nor a…