On the Day That Carrie Fisher Passed Away

I woke up early today. On most days, if I am given the choice, I will stay up late and sleep late, living in the night for all it is worth then regaining the hours lost. Today was an exception, though. I was awoken by nothing in particular but the early opening of my eyes at around five in the morning, then after some unsuccessful attempts to sleep again, I entertained myself with an early morning, beginning my day at seven, and, unusual of me, I spent this morning, aside from a Instagram photo, an article from Relevant magazine and an episode of the Match Game, distanced from technology, choosing to spend my time in literature, specifically the Bible and Shusaku Endo's classic novel Silence.

After my wholesome morning, I spent the better part of the day exploring St. Petersburg, Florida, with my good friend and a former-teacher-now-friend. Until shortly around 6pm today, well after our explorations had ceased, I was unaware that Carrie Fisher had passed away.

I chose to absolve myself yet again from my phone, save to snap a few photos, during the St. Pete expedition, allowing myself to fully embrace the world I have lived so close to but never appreciated for what it is. But unbeknownst to me, shortly after my day had begun, Carrie Fisher had died.

I was completely aware of her major heart attack on December 23rd--it was the big talking point before the night's church service as headlines came pouring in on Twitter and the rest of the Web. I kept vigilant watch through Christmas, checking to see how her condition had shifted from her inability to breathe on the plane to her stay in the ICU and CCU. I even said a prayer for her during the Christmas Eve service when I tuned out Pastor for a moment, and not out of selfish ambition for the future of the Star Wars saga. When her family made public mention that she had stabilized, I had hope that she would make it through. I even thought that "the universe" had given up George Michael so that Carrie Fisher would live instead, but just the thought of that is terribly foolish now. It was not to be.

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My first memory of Star Wars is Carrie Fisher. Not the scene where she gives R2-D2 the Death Star plans in the seige of the Tantive IV, but the scene where she consoles Luke after Obi-Wan Kenobi sacrifices himself at the hands of Darth Vader aboard the Death Star. It shouldn't have been my first taste of the galaxy far, far away--it should have been the blaring yellow text and 20th Century Fox fanfare--but when I was having my mom preview the film before I watched it when I was but a wee lad, I stuck my head into her room out of curiosity and this was the first frame I ever saw of the film:

The only significance it ever held for me then was that it was my first experience with Star Wars...and the memory of my mom warning me that I would spoil the film if I kept peeking. Now, it's almost poetic: my first time seeing her on screen being her consoling Luke (Mark Hamill) after his mentor's untimely death; now, many of us seek a similar consolation in the wake of hers.

I never reviewed last year's The Force Awakens; I could never crack the prose, though I greatly enjoyed the film. It's a very special film for me, too, as it was my very first theatrical Star Wars film. Sure, I saw The Clone Wars pilot in theaters in 2008, but The Force Awakens was my first real Star Wars movie. I started tearing up when the fanfare blared and the giant STAR WARS logo came in 3D, and I shook in excitement as I was actually reading an opening crawl in theaters. And there, almost an hour into the movie, comes Princess Leia--nay, General Leia Organa--herself. I suppose Carrie Fisher is linked to many "firsts" when it comes to Star Wars for me. It saddens me, though, that when I see Episode VIII on opening weekend next December, it will be, instead, the last new performance of hers that I will ever see.

She meant a great deal to many people in different ways. She was and is the poster girl for strong female characters. She was a voice for those with mental illness. She was a fighter against substance abuse. She was a woman who proudly spoke her mind. She inspired young writers to pursue their calling later in life. Truly, she was an incredible human being. I feel like her death has moved me more than some of the other recent celebrity deaths because while I was familiar with her work, I never really bothered to explore it, especially some of the movies she wrote even though I'm sure I would enjoy them, while she was still alive. Robin Williams's passing was sad, but I got to spend my childhood watching him in many movies, and then come to appreciate his stand-up comedy on Pandora Radio in my adult life. So while it's sad he's gone, it's almost like he never left because of how much more I'm discovering of him. Maybe, in time, the same will be the case with Carrie Fisher.

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Towards the end of our adventure in St. Pete, we observed and admired some of the murals around the city, including the famous "Before I Die..." wall where passersby can leave their life goal on the wall where it stays until "it fades with the rains of time," as my former teacher described it. Some were funny, like "See the aliens;" some were pitifully vulgar, like "F*** your b****;" some were of love; some were philosophical, like "I WANT TO LIVE;" some were short-term goals, and others were long-term. Many of them, though, had to do with leaving some kind of legacy, mine included.

"It gives you perspective," he said.

I think about it often, my legacy. I wrestle with how I will--how I can--leave a lasting mark on this Earth for posterity. I pondered it when my Grandpa died in October. I pondered it when I listened to Hamilton. I think about it every time I write unfinished drafts of books and screenplays as I judge whether I want that to represent me after I'm gone. I heard a story in the wake of her passing about how, in an interview, Fisher said she was so glad she did The Force Awakens because it reminded her that she was still so beloved by people after she lived a relatively quiet career after the 80s, at least compared to her two co-stars Mark Hamill and Harrison Ford. She got to see her legacy personified.

For me, it feels wrong to say that "She is one with the Force," or similar allusions, since the Force is not real and does not do her career justice. I am, however, grateful for the work she has left on this Earth so that more people now may be impacted in the ways people were while she was still living. I'm grateful, too, that I learned of it later in the day so that I was able to experience an introspective adventure on the day that Carrie Fisher passed away.

Rest in peace. You will be missed, and your family is in our prayers.

Carrie Fisher (1956-2016)