Life is short. Sometimes our choices make it shorter.
Carrie Fisher’s death is back in the news. It turns out she was using drugs around the time of her death. She was obviously relpased with her addictions, as I suppose all of us were afraid to hear when she re-entered the spotlight of the Star Wars universe and found herself once again the center of nerve-wracking adoration from people who never really knew her.
Frankly, I don’t know why we’re all so obsessed with the cause of death if it’s not a criminal matter. I don’t know why we need to know. When my dad died, it didn’t matter to me what had killed him, just that I had to say goodbye. It matters even less to me what ended Carrie Fisher’s life.
This isn’t because I’m calloused. It’s because it really doesn’t matter. All it can do is blunt the sympathies of those who wish to shake their heads and pontificate about drug use, or magnify the sympathies of those who feel a personal stake in her life to shake their heads and pontificate about drug use.
In the end, the sympathy you feel for Ms. Fisher should be the same for any person who leaves this world at so young an age. The sympathy you extend to her memory for her struggles with addiction should extend to those who didn’t enable your escapes from reality, but live such lives that made addiction an escape from their own reality.
Let your sympathy extend to those who use food as a medication for their frustrations; feel sorrow at those who blur the lines of themselves to step away from unfulfilling lives by any means, even online gaming. Real life is a struggle and some people don’t cope as well as we’d all hope.
By all accounts, she was a dynamic and funny person. She also had issues dealing with the things that made her so special.
I have a belief system that there’s something after this, and my hope and prayer is that whatever suffering drove Ms. Fisher into her addictions is gone now. Whatever metaphorical demons chased her, I hope they were burned away by the bright light of a better world.
May God have mercy on her soul, and may she be smiling somewhere, free of the pain that drove her to choices that shortened her life. That’s what I thought when I first heard of her death, and it’s what I think now.
So, once more. Rest in peace, Ms. Fisher. I never knew you, but I’m grateful you were able to make some sort of impact that won’t be forgotten for a long time.