Warning. This post contains serious spoilers pertaining to Star Wars Episode VII. Continue at your own risk.
Taken by surprise
I walked out of the theater tonight in disbelief. The excitement of Star Wars: The Force Awakens lost in a flash of red. A man close to my heart, perhaps closer than even my father, ceasing to exist. It was a run of the mill mission. Destroy the equipment and stop the super-weapon. Not all the heroes made it.
My hero didn’t make it.
I choked on the lump in my throat for the rest of the film.
My hero is dead.
Just like that
I’m home now. My son, who attended the movie with me is in bed. Just another sci-fi movie to him. I’m shaking. Weak. Empty. Powerless. I’m holding my Han Solo action figure. Tears are in my eyes, the image of a once immortal character crippled and falling into a void. All of my memories of my hero, falling into a fucking hole.
Pilot, smuggler, war hero. A man who survived the impossible odds. A man I adored since I was old enough to differentiate between Episode IV and Spaceballs. A man who until two hours ago lived eternally as an unbeatable young rogue in my childhood memories, is gone.
Just like that.
Goodbye, my hero
My Han Solo action figure; cool plastic in my hand. I feel like it’s broken. Looking into that hand painted face, I don’t see a smooth talking fly boy anymore. I see an old man, beaten by the years and weathered by hardship. I see so much left unresolved. I see Leia, heavy-hearted, carrying on with the mission. I walk to the bathroom to dry my eyes and in the mirror, see a little boy who has grown up. I see a man who has to say good-bye to his childhood hero.
Goodbye Han Solo, my hero. I will miss you,
Abrams, you’re breaking my heart.