It's sad - very sad - but I made sure I left my parents' house by 1:30 this afternoon so I could be home in time to watch the whole LOST finale.
My son Tommy doesn't understand our fascination with LOST - he says it's silly, that they never answer any questions, just keep creating more, and I can't argue with him. I've said the same thing myself.
So why am I so hooked?
Well, for one thing, I'm a geek. I'm a sucker for the mysteries, the allusions, the symbolism. I'm a Lord of the Rings, Narnia, Ender's Game fanatic. Add Sawyer's cute dimples and shirtless scenes, and there you go.
But here I am at the end of the series, and I'm so disappointed. The last 30 minutes were like a flush of a toilet. Like the writers just got tired and said to hell with it all, we can't fix it.
But I forgive them. It's just a television show, after all. They gave me so many hours of entertainment, kept me on the edge of my seat, had me wondering what the heck was going on - for years now - so I'll cut 'em some slack.
Because when it's all said and done, they gave me characters - characters that were layered, layered, layered. Characters that were believable because they were so flawed. That's what's kept me coming back every week, waiting to see what happened. Despite their weaknesses, they learned to pull the best out of themselves. They loved each other, they connected, they believed in each other. They learned to believe in themselves. To forgive themselves.
It's been a lesson in writing... a lesson in characterization, story and plot.
But more than that, it's been a lesson in life.