When I first heard the news that Carrie Fisher had a heart attack, I was floored. I closed my eyes real tight and said a prayer for her and her family. Growing up a Star Wars fan, Princess Leia as a big part of my childhood. In a year which so many unexpected deaths, the possibility of losing Carrie hit especially hard. I didn't want the news to be true. When a report came out from Carrie's mother (the wonderful and delightful Debbie Reynolds) that she was stable and doing better, I relaxed.
And this morning on Twitter, Carrie started trending. I held my breath as I looked. Maybe it was good news! Maybe she was out of ICU.
I instantly cried at the headlines. Carrie Fisher had passed away.
She was more than just a Star Wars actor. Carrie was an icon. When my world was dominated by Miss Elizabeth and Barbie, I had Princess Leia to look up to as a strong woman in the sci-fi genre. Not a damsel in distress waiting to be rescued. She showed me I can stand up for what's right, oppose evil, lead a rebellion. Princess Leia was a bad ass.
Because of her, I wanted to become an author and create more characters like her in a genre dominated by weak and useless eye candy. Carrie herself was so un-mercilessly funny and unabashed in who she was. Her take me or leave me attitude never cease to amaze me and fill me with pride. She wouldn't consider herself a roll model, but she was. Outspoken about her own demons and mental issues, she blazed a trail to bring it to light. It was okay to talk about mental illness. Carrie beat addictions. She freely admitted to struggles with bi-polar disorder. She refused to be a punch line for late night talk show hosts. She was an author. She had influence over major Hollywood scripts.
She was loved by many.
We are down one geek goddess but she will never be forgotten. Her final word in Rogue One I will take with me. "Hope."
I am one with the Force. The Force is with me.
Rest in Peace.
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