Carrie On

Let’s just say it’s been a tough week.

Carrie Fisher’s death, followed by that of her mom, Debbie Reynolds, crushed me.

Not so much because Ms. Fisher was Princess Leia. In fact, it had little to do with her work as an actress and everything to do with who she was as a person.

I’m a big reader, so it’s no surprise I’m a fan of Carrie Fisher’s writings, both “fiction” and memoir. She was so outrageous, so witty, and when I lecture my son about every word being gold, I can think of her and say, “yes, she knew.”

My favorite Carrie Fisher book is Wishful Drinking. But I enjoyed the others, too. She had a laser-sharp tongue, which she used to cut through the Hollywood B.S. Much of her charm could be attributed to the fact that she was so honest about herself, describing situations in her life that would incinerate anyone else, but which she turned into a series of dark comedic scenarios that had me laughing and crying at the same time.

I will miss hearing about her life and adventures. When you know that much about what a person has endured – and triumphed over – when they leave this world, their loss is yours, too.

And so, I add Carrie Fisher to the guest list of women I’d like to share a meal with in the next life. I will put her at the head of the table, sit back and savor every word.

Here’s to you, old friend I never met. 

I hope I have that privilege in another time and space.