I started reading this book this morning. It's been difficult emotionally. I read some more this evening, and it hasn't gotten much easier.
While I was laying in bed trying to sleep and the tears kept coming, a thought came to me that while many famous people, important people in my fandom, have died that it all means something more to me.
Robin Williams taking his own life was a life ending much too soon. It was depriving me (and us) of someone who has been entertaining me since "Mork & Mindy". He had made me laugh through multiple comedy albums and movies. And now, he's gone.
Leonard Nimoy died, and while it hurt and I thought it was sad, I thought more of the people close to him who were hurting the most: his family and, of course, William Shatner, who had lost a very close friend.
And then Terry Pratchett died and I was without my favorite author. He was an writer whose books I have been reading for almost 30 years. He was sick at the end, fighting a disease with no cure. And now I'm reading possibly the last work of his that the world will ever see.
And what else has happened in this last year?
Friends have gotten divorces. Other friendships that were so amazing and fulfilling have been cut off.
And then there's the big news that most of you already know. A little less than a year ago, my mom was been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. She's beaten the odds so far and looks to break through the one year mark when she had been given only six months. But we're still afraid, and we're still sad.
And so I come to this book, and this chapter, and I am devastated. Because of all that has come before, and all that lays before me, and all that is happening now.