They say there’s something irredeemable about death. It’s something beyond repair; hopeless; not able to be helped, saved, or made better. They say this, and it’s true. It’s why I’m so deathly afraid of death. It’s so final.
By “they” I mean Robert and Michelle King, the creators of “The Good Wife”. Because Will Gardner–played by my Dead Poets’ Society crush-of-all-crushes Josh Charles–died in this week’s episode. Unknowing, naive me thought they were working back to an Alicia-Will reconciliation, but then this happened. This final, irredeemable gunshot to the neck. And all I could do was lament how I’d been so mad at him and judgmental of him for lashing out at Alicia and for playing the role of wild bad-boy. And I wondered if I’d paid as close attention as I should have to his scenes. And had I appreciated every line he’d spoken? If I’d just known.
Because when someone is gone, he’s gone. And you can’t have a do-over. And you can’t apologize and change. And you can’t say, “I’ll be better next time.” Because there is no next time. There is no tomorrow. At least not one without that empty space where the person used to be.
Will died in a courtroom shooting. And some old man died of a hit-and-run this morning. And all those 200+ people died in that airplane in the Indian Ocean. And James Rebhorn died of melanoma.
There are so many different ways of dying. But no matter the way, it doesn’t change the finality. The hopelessness. The irredeemability of it, of Death.
