I sit in my house two days after The End of Lost in a unique, perfectly gorgeous emotional state. Acceptance is tinged with nostalgia (yes, already) and a deep, selfish longing for more. More what? Answers? I'm pleased with what we were given and what was left to speculation. (May our continued debates be ever colored with Sawyerian humor, Faradian intelligence, and Humeian dedication. Namasté.) No, I don't want more answers. I want more time. More stories. A glimpse, perhaps, of Ben on some crazy mission, guided by Hurley's Star Wars wisdom. A buddy cop show about the Detective Adventures of Sideways Straume and Ford would be a most excellent spinoff, but alas, those are stories that will never be told, stories left to the fan's imagination. [perhaps properly, left to our imagination, and creativity - ed.]
That is the enduring and wonderous legacy of Lost: us, the fans. We have our squabbles (Skaters, Jaters, and Sulieters, anyone?), our theories (Jacob is a time traveling scientist from the future and Smokey is a group of nanobots bent on his destruction!), and our inside jokes and jargon (Who is your Constant? Somebody find Keamy! I want some eggs!) We have each other and the journey. Everyone's journey has been different, everyone's journey has been valid.
It will be hard to let go. It's been such a fantastic ride! And I admit, I'm not quite ready to let go. And that's ok, because I want to take the end slowly. I want to savor it's beauty and shimmering sadness. You may think I'm being overly dramatic about it, and I probably am. But to me, to many people, Lost was an experience that allowed them to process their own flaws tempered with the hope that we can get past the bad things that have happened, that we may have done, and become something better. Lost is and always will be, in my heart + mind, a redemption story. A story of community. Community is what Lost created among viewers. Community is how we will continue.
Namastè, and Happily Ever After
