Dear Laura,
So you lived in a universe where faster-than-light travel happened at the push of a button, but a cure for your cancer was all but unheard of. One can wonder if that is realistic, but it’s difficult to deny the poetic irony of your situation: you could travel anywhere you wanted to go, but there was no escaping your own body’s limitations.
For all your traveling, you redefined the concept of ‘home’.
We’ve seen you traversing our galaxy for years, essentially leading humanity’s biggest camping trip.
- Pictured: A camping trip for those who don’t like rain.
In the end, it was you who gave a home to so many. Thank you for that.
- I’ve seen worse parking spots.
It’s a pity you passed away at journey’s end, but the journey was definitely worth it. In the vastness of outer space, it was your radar that showed the way, never compromising on what you believed was right. In the most unlikely place, you even found your true love.
- Also, you’ve proven yourself anything but shallow by accepting him with his mustache, which I’m sure was out of fashion even in your day.
Your quest was as epic as ‘Lord of the Rings’ and it even had a point. Added to that, you found yourself surrounded by believable characters.
- I somehow find this thing less frightening than battling cancer.
I wish Gandalf had gotten cancer instead of you. It would have made him so much more interesting.
Did they do prostate exams in Middle Earth? It seems it wouldn’t hurt Gandalf the Smoke Addict.
Your journey transcended the literal definition of the word. Your wisdom makes Gandalf look like a poorly endowed hobbit with crappy shaving equipment.
As you unwillingly taught us, everything happens for a reason. ‘Good’ and ‘bad’ are merely human inventions. You knew early on your journey would end on a planet we’ve come to know as Earth. You also knew you wouldn’t get to live on Earth. Nevertheless, you embraced the task bestowed upon you. Not once did you negotiate with reality.
Even without your hair, you were more impressive than this guy:
Basically, you’re a character as rare as life itself. In your final moments, you took comfort in the part you had played. As if you knew you would echo in eternity, your last words were: ‘So much life…’
Journey’s end.
See you in another 150,000 years.
Kind regards,
A. van Nerel
SATIRE NATION 