phoenixastraea | Thoughts on not going gently into the night

In those soft grey moments of nothingness that occasionally come before us, do you ever sit back and mourn the loss of people you've never met?

I had a similar moment today. While watching a particularly poignant episode of Star Trek: DS9, I thought about how much I missed a member of another Star Trek cast: Deforrest Kelley. It seemed strange to me that I should feel such an overwhelming grief at the loss of this wonderful actor and charming man. Even stranger, I had just lost a great-grandmother this past weekend at the ripe old age of 101. Am I sad at her passing? Yes, very much so. But I wasn't as close to her as I was to other members of the family who have since passed on. Yet, I recognize that my sense of loss for "Bones" McCoy feels stronger and deeper than a member of my own family. Am I slightly unsettled by this? You betcha.

Is this merely an unhealthy obsession with celebrity? Or is it something deeper? In all honesty, I saw more of Bones McCoy in my life than I did this great-grandmother, who lived in Georgia, and to my recollection, only visited us in MD once or twice during all that time. As for McCoy, I grew up with him. Fictional character or no, he was a beloved childhood friend, a companion during sick days, sunny days, and long, blanket-wrapped, cocoa-filled nights. He kept me laughing, crying, arguing along with him and I still believe I haven't quite accepted the death of the wonderful actor that gave him life.

Other actors who I truly miss include: Mark Lenard, who played Sarek, Spock's father; Phil Hartman, a brilliant comedian whose death was so damn senseless; Christopher Reeve, who shall be forever enshrined as Superman in the hearts of a nation; River Phoenix, who lived life too fast , died young, and left a beautiful corpse; and Jonathan Brandis, who played lots of wonderful roles before committing suicide. Its strange that at that moment, I edited myself, couching my language in pleasant, disguising euphemism rather than admitting to or revealing the horrid truth of his death. I guess I'm protective of him; I thought he was a great actor and well, I had a huge crush on him when he was on Seaquest. His death in particular still affects me because it was preventable. Why suicide? What was in his mind that drove him to end such a promising life? Did he not see the promise? Did he not know that there were those of us out there still cheering for him? Why? All death seems senseless and undignified, but when its by your own hand...when there are people out there who love you and support you...it leaves a stain. I rarely listen to Nirvana because of such a stain; they were once one of my favorite bands.

Perhaps "stain" is too coarse a word. Maybe I mean the deep dissatisfaction, the long-standing sorrow of those who are left behind, unable to answer the question: "Why?". For Phil, we have an answer: his wife was a psycho who should burn for killing him. For River, we have an answer; death is one of the many side effects of illegal drugs. For my Superman, we have an answer; his spirit had chosen its time to fly again. For Deforrest and Mark, we understand that we all live terminal lives, capped with the icing of old age but for Jonathan, twenty-seven was old age. I'm not far away from that myself. It just makes you think. And mourn. And rage at the dying of the light.