The end of an era: Lost...

I had a belly dancing post in mind for today (which I still plan to write later today or tomorrow) but after last night's series finale of Lost, I knew that I had to write about that.

Mike and I have been in love with Lost since the summer of 2006, when we watched the first two seasons on DVD at a frantic pace. We were hooked, and beginning with season 3, we watched every weekly episode with rapt attention. I loved the mysteries and the characters; Mike loved the philosophy and the mythology of the island. We both enjoyed the show immensely.

So, yesterday being the series finale, we really did it up good. We plunked down to start watching the recap show at 7 pm, and watched all the way until the final episode concluded at 11:30, our butts asleep. Here's the one thing (actually, the only thing) that I don't like about living on the East coast: television show times. 11:30 is way, WAY too late to have to stay up to watch a program. It's a perpetual problem over here; we always get the late end of the stick.

At any rate, we psyched ourselves up because we didn't want to miss a moment. We got Hank in bed, Mike made us some martinis, and we settled in for the long haul.

**Spoilers begin, warning...**

All I can say is: When I die, I want the Lost soundtrack playing in the background. So, so emotionally evocative and dramatic. It'll make however I die seem all heroic. I think this is a good plan.

Anyway...we start watching (and drinking) and as is absolutely no surprise, I quickly become emotional. I know that reviews are mixed, but I for one really loved the finale. It satisfied me, I felt that the characters (for the most part) were redeemed of past emotional baggage and were happy. I cried (pretty hard) for at least an hour of the two and a half hour episode.

Emotional hot spots for me: Aaron. All parents know that once you have a child, the way you look at children and their vulnerability is irrevocably changed. You see your child in all of them, and in a split second, without the need for any forethought whatsoever, you would die for them. And Claire's little son Aaron just reminds me so much of Hank. Last night we saw some scenes from when Aaron was about 3, and the shots of him sleeping angelically in his toddler bed, or coming out and seeing his (foster) parents arguing, clutching his stuffed whale, made me cry HARD. I want my Hank to always feel safe, secure and loved.

And then we see Aaron born again, in the alternate timeline, and I cried then too. The cute thing was, that baby was so totally not a newborn, and he seemed to be saying "what is all this crap doing smeared all over me?! Yucky, get it off!" I loved how his little tongue curled up when he cried. I immediately declared that I wanted to have another baby right then and there. Mike arched a brow at me.

I'll move on in a second, but I simply have to insert another baby anecdote. Earlier in the day, I was over visiting our neighbor while Hank played with their little boy. They have a new baby, Lena, who is about 7 months old. I was keeping an eye on her for a few minutes while her mom went to get something for the boys. Lena was sitting on the living room floor, playing with a few baby toys. I was beaming at her. Suddenly, she grabs a big plastic rattle and shakes it a tad too enthusiastically. She brains herself right on the forehead. I cringe, but smile at her hoping to soothe. She stares at me, momentarily stunned by the blow. At least 5-7 full seconds go by as I can see her little mind working:

"Who is that woman over there? What is this rattle doing in my hand? Wait, WHY DOES MY HEAD HURT SO MUCH?! Should I be crying? YES I SHOULD. wwwaaaahHHHHHHHH!"

She is so, so cute. Naturally, I scooped her right up, but she refused to be soothed. She appeared to be both tired and teething, a dangerous combination. Nevertheless, she was tremendously cute, and thus, I was already in happy baby land, contributing to my sobs during the Aaron scenes. Moving on...

Ok, other Lost things last night that I dug. All the religious imagery. The church. I loved the Jesus statue outside, arms open, awaiting takers. And most importantly, I felt that the characters that we've come to love have found the redemption that they have been looking for since season one. I've been wondering about that alternate timeline all season, and for me, it felt satisfying to discover that that universe was actually a purgatory of sorts, a place for our characters to work out their struggles before moving on to the fuller afterlife.

As well, their lives had meaning. The choices that they made, both good and bad, *mattered* to their ultimate destination and to others. Their time on the island was real, and it kept the world a better place for everyone, as well as contributed to their own personal journey of faith. Good, good stuff.

This morning, however, I wasn't feeling so good. Got to bed at midnight, plus 2 martinis, plus cramps = very miserable Catholic Librarian. When I limped downstairs this morning for breakfast, still in my pajamas rather than fully dressed and made up like usual, Mike eyed me worriedly. Much coffee and ibuprofen consumption later, I made it out of the house. Clearly though, I'm less than 100%. We'll get there. At any rate, it was worth it.