Actor and political activist Sean Penn describes meeting President Hugo Chavez during his visit to Venezuela and shares his thoughts on the local media. On March 5, 2013 Chavez passed away after a battle with cancer.

George Galloway, a campaign adviser to Hugo Chavez, remembers his friend and explains why he was one of the greatest world leaders in history. Chavez passed away on March 5, 2013 while in office as the President of Venezuela.

What happened that night? Your final night.
Double, treble exposure
Over everything. Late afternoon, Friday,
My last sight of you alive.
Burning your letter to me, in the ashtray,
With that strange smile. Had I bungled your plan?
Had it surprised me sooner than you purposed?
Had I rushed it back to you too promptly?
One hour later—-you would have been gone
Where I could not have traced you.
I would have turned from your locked red door
That nobody would open
Still holding your letter,
A thunderbolt that could not earth itself.
That would have been electric shock treatment
For me.
Repeated over and over, all weekend,
As often as I read it, or thought of it.
That would have remade my brains, and my life.
The treatment that you planned needed some time.
I cannot imagine
How I would have got through that weekend.
I cannot imagine. Had you plotted it all?

Your note reached me too soon—-that same day,
Friday afternoon, posted in the morning.
The prevalent devils expedited it.
That was one more straw of ill-luck
Drawn against you by the Post-Office
And added to your load. I moved fast,
Through the snow-blue, February, London twilight.
Wept with relief when you opened the door.
A huddle of riddles in solution. Precocious tears
That failed to interpret to me, failed to divulge
Their real import. But what did you say
Over the smoking shards of that letter
So carefully annihilated, so calmly,
That let me release you, and leave you
To blow its ashes off your plan—-off the ashtray
Against which you would lean for me to read
The Doctor’s phone-number.
My escape
Had become such a hunted thing
Sleepless, hopeless, all its dreams exhausted,
Only wanting to be recaptured, only
Wanting to drop, out of its vacuum.
Two days of dangling nothing. Two days gratis.
Two days in no calendar, but stolen
From no world,
Beyond actuality, feeling, or name.

My love-life grabbed it. My numbed love-life
With its two mad needles,
Embroidering their rose, piercing and tugging
At their tapestry, their bloody tattoo
Somewhere behind my navel,
Treading that morass of emblazon,
Two mad needles, criss-crossing their stitches,
Selecting among my nerves
For their colours, refashioning me
Inside my own skin, each refashioning the other
With their self-caricatures,

Their obsessed in and out. Two women
Each with her needle.

That night
My dellarobbia Susan. I moved
With the circumspection
Of a flame in a fuse. My whole fury
Was an abandoned effort to blow up
The old globe where shadows bent over
My telltale track of ashes. I raced
From and from, face backwards, a film reversed,
Towards what? We went to Rugby St
Where you and I began.
Why did we go there? Of all places
Why did we go there? Perversity
In the artistry of our fate
Adjusted its refinements for you, for me
And for Susan. Solitaire
Played by the Minotaur of that maze
Even included Helen, in the ground-floor flat.
You had noted her—-a girl for a story.
You never met her. Few ever met her,
Except across the ears and raving mask
Of her Alsatian. You had not even glimpsed her.
You had only recoiled
When her demented animal crashed its weight
Against her door, as we slipped through the hallway;
And heard it choking on infinite German hatred.

That Sunday night she eased her door open
Its few permitted inches.
Susan greeted the black eyes, the unhappy
Overweight, lovely face, that peeped out
Across the little chain. The door closed.
We heard her consoling her jailor
Inside her cell, its kennel, where, days later,
She gassed her ferocious kupo, and herself.

Susan and I spent that night
In our wedding bed. I had not seen it
Since we lay there on our wedding day.
I did not take her back to my own bed.
It had occurred to me, your weekend over,
You might appear—-a surprise visitation.
Did you appear, to tap at my dark window?
So I stayed with Susan, hiding from you,
In our own wedding bed—-the same from which
Within three years she would be taken to die
In that same hospital where, within twelve hours,
I would find you dead.
Monday morning
I drove her to work, in the City,
Then parked my van North of Euston Road
And returned to where my telephone waited
What happened that night, inside your hours,
Is as unknown as if it never happened.
What accumulation of your whole life,
Like effort unconscious, like birth
Pushing through the membrane of each slow second
Into the next, happened
Only as if it could not happen,
As if it was not happening. How often
Did the phone ring there in my empty room,
You hearing the ring in your receiver—-
At both ends the fading memory
Of a telephone ringing, in a brain
As if already dead. I count
How often you walked to the phone-booth
At the bottom of St George’s terrace.
You are there whenever I look, just turning
Out of Fitzroy Road, crossing over
Between the heaped up banks of dirty sugar.
In your long black coat,
With your plait coiled up at the back of your hair
You walk unable to move, or wake, and are
Already nobody walking
Walking by the railings under Primrose Hill
Towards the phone booth that can never be reached.
Before midnight. After midnight. Again.
Again. Again. And, near dawn, again.

At what position of the hands on my watch-face
Did your last attempt,
Already deeply past
My being able to hear it, shake the pillow
Of that empty bed? A last time
Lightly touch at my books, and my papers?
By the time I got there my phone was asleep.
The pillow innocent. My room slept,
Already filled with the snowlit morning light.
I lit my fire. I had got out my papers.
And I had started to write when the telephone
Jerked awake, in a jabbering alarm,
Remembering everything. It recovered in my hand.
Then a voice like a selected weapon
Or a measured injection,
Coolly delivered its four words
Deep into my ear: ‘Your wife is dead.’

Ringo Starr comments on his life long friendship with band mate George Harrison and Paul McCartney shares his memory of Harrison's audition to join The Beatles. In November 2001 Harrison passed away after a battle with lung cancer, leaving Starr and McCartney the only surviving Beatles.

Beatle Ringo Starr cries as he remembers the last words George Harrison said to him on his death bed. Harrison passed away on November 29, 2001 after a battle with lung cancer.

Bill Gates discusses the passing of Steve Jobs and how that has impacted his career and personal life. He reveals how he spent a few hours with Jobs before his death and made peace with him. Steve Paul, "Steve Jobs", along with Steve Wozniak and Ronald Wayne, was the chairman, and CEO of Apple Inc. He is known for his Apple products and revolutionizing the computer and smartphone industry. Jobs died at his Palo Alto, California, home around 3 pm on October 5, 2011, from respiratory arrest.

Stevie Wonder interviews with Katie Couric on how Michael Jackson, has inspired him and the rest of the music industry. Stevie Wonder, American musician, singer and songwriter, recalls in his first person account how he never imagined that he would be singing "I Never Dreamed You'd Leave in Summer" at Jackson's memorial service on July 7, 2009. Jackson is recognized as the most successful entertainer of all time by Guinness World Records. He died on June 25, 2009.

Quincy Jones remembers what it was like working with Michael Jackson on "The Wiz" and "Off the Wall" when Jackson was only 12 years old. In his story, Jones remembers the day he decided to be Jackson's producer after seeing his inspiring potential and professionalism. In 1982, Jones produced Michael's best selling album, "Thriller." Often referred to by the honorific nickname "King of Pop," or by his initials MJ, Jackson is recognized as the most successful entertainer of all time by Guinness World Records. He died on June 25, 2009.

American Olympic lugers describe how they feel about the fastest luge track ever created at the 2010 Vancouver Olympics just a day before the tragic death of Georgian luger Nodar Kumaritashvili. During a practice run Kumaritashvili lost control during the final turn and was fatally injured during the accident.

Actor Kevin Costner, known for his role opposite Whitney Houston in The Bodyguard, remembers the emotions he felt during her funeral and reflects on their working relationship. Houston passed away on February 11, 2012 with her funeral held on the 18th. It was attended by many of her celebrity friends and peers like Stevie Wonder, Alicia Keys, R. Kelly, and many more.