Yesterday on Facebook, I saw that a friend posted about the death of Sir Terry Pratchett. I was on my phone waiting in line for school to let out so I didn’t investigate. I simply posted a question back and then made a mental note to look it up later, because surely it was some kind of mistake.
There are websites out there who go around posting fake celebrity deaths, so I thought she must have fallen for one of those. We just lost Leonard Nimoy, surely Death wouldn’t take Sir Terry from us on the heels of losing Spock. It turns out I was wrong.
This morning I found that mental note, among the rest of the detritus in my head, and investigated. We did indeed lose Sir Terry Pratchett and another piece of my heart has traveled to the other side with him.
I never met Sir Terry, but I read his books. I loved them. I still do.
If someone came to me with a magic pen and said: “This will let you write in your own voice but with the genius of another writer, but you can only pick one…” I wouldn’t have used the pen because there is always a catch with those things; but if I had been foolish enough to give it a go, Sir Terry would have been the writer I picked. His talent is something I will always look up to.
Another one of my heroes has passed and left me with only memories. Funny how that works. Robin Williams, Leonard Nimoy, Sir Terry Pratchett…I never met any of them but some how my world has been brighter with an extra dose of hope and magic in it because they lived.