So I had a dream about Laura Roslin last night.
She was undergoing another chemo treatment, and I was just sitting with her. (Don’t ask me where the admiral was; he must have been busy.) She was rocking back and forth, and I was passing my hand across her shoulders, trying to make her feel better. She was cranky, but you would be too if you had terminal cancer. Her wig slipped; I readjusted it for her.
When I get to the end of what I think are the best books, movies, or TV series I’ve encountered, I’m always a little reluctant to turn the last page, because I know I’m going to be a little sad when it’s all over. Sure, I could go back to the beginning and re-read the book (something I tend to do on a somewhat annual basis with The Great Gatsby) or re-watch the series, but the sadness remains because, in a way, the characters have become part of my past.
These characters are like people you “knew” but who’ve either moved on, moved away, or passed away. You can think about the times you spent together, but they’re not people you could call up or catch up with over a cup of coffee.
Those are the characters I hope I can create, the kind you miss once you reach the end of their story. The sort readers might miss in the same way I miss Laura Roslin.