Grief
Why Her?
The title of this piece has two senses, and the one you have in mind probably depends on what you think about mourning a fictional character. If you think it’s foolish, or I need to grow up, or “it’s just a story,” then you’re probably thinking why her in the sense of “Why are you grieving for her?” If you know the feeling of shock at the death of a fictional character—especially the way Jennifer died—then you’re probably here thinking this piece is asking why she had to die. I’ll address both senses of the question.
Why do I (and many others) mourn fictional characters? That some people do so is probably less foreign to you than it may seem. Many have mourned over others whom they’ve never met: celebrities, royalty, clergy, community members, you name it. What’s the difference? Yes, I understand that “real people” live real lives that eventually end. And that distinction deserves recognition. But think about your own life: Pick your favorite actor, leader, or hero whom you’ve never met. Would you be saddened by their untimely death? Maybe even dare to shed a tear? But how could they mean anything to you if you haven’t met them? The answer is probably some variation of “that person was a positive influence on my life.” Maybe he or she was someone to aspire to, or who offered sage advice, or who set an example by overcoming a tough obstacle. You read about that person, maybe saw him or her on the tube, and felt a connection not because you breathed the same air but because he or she represented something special. If you’re following me at this point, then you’re not so far off from where I stand. If you’re not following me at all, I wonder whether you have a heart of anything but stone.
These people, whom you’ve mourned or would mourn should they die, are mediated to you not through handshakes, shared looks, and conversations but through stories. The same is true of a fictional character. Good fictional characters are portrayed in a manner that makes them worm their way into the heart of the viewer or reader. Partly by living vicariously through the character, the viewer creates an emotional bond and desires the character’s success. The viewer may even identify with the character—a kind of closeness that’s hard to achieve in two-way relationships. The point is simply that stories are powerful mediators between the people they’re about (real or fictional) and the viewer. Maybe they’re less powerful than face-to-face conversation and touch, but they’re certainly more than “just stories.”
Why Jennifer, then? The answer to this sense of the question is because she was just what I said above: Someone who overcame a tough obstacle (her dark past). Someone to aspire to in her expertise, innocence, loyalty, love, and courage. Someone who influenced me through her life as well as her death. Maybe she had to die horribly for me to truly see her; either way, see her I did. And now, almost 40 years later, having learned how to grieve, I mourn her loss with tears, my own questions, and this website honoring her. No, it’s not the same thing as losing a spouse or a child. That doesn’t mean it’s easy, that doesn’t mean it’s painless, that doesn’t mean it’s meaningless. Just because someone else has it harder doesn’t mean your pain or mine is any less painful or any less valid. And if all you can think is “Get over it,” I simply reply “You first.”
But why Jennifer? Why did she have to die? Why did she have to die with no comfort, and not even a few minutes of grieving by the other characters? Her sacrifice went unrecognized, unresolved, unmourned. Why her? The obvious answer is because the writers intended it to happen that way. But now we’re back in it’s-just-a-story land. There’s more to it. Yes, the writers ordained her horrible death. Yet, in the back of even a half-awake mind is a sense of the injustice and unfairness of a girl who clawed her way from darkness to light being smashed as though her life were nothing. What is the answer to “Why her?” in this sense? There is no answer, other than this world is cursed. It’s unjust. It’s unfair. It’s dark. “Why her?” is less a question than a lament. It’s a lament over the loss of a beautiful soul. It’s a lament over the pain that remains in her place. It’s a lament over every second of sharing, even just screen time, that will never happen now.
I’ve asked the question. Why her? I have no satisfying answer—at least not one that eases the pain. But perhaps a certain Jedi master had an inkling of wisdom when he said, “If you strike me down, I shall become more powerful than you can possibly imagine.” Had Jennifer lived, had the show gone on, would I and others who admire her feel the same about her? Who knows. But maybe because of her death, her beauty illuminated in the only way that could leave such a deep impression. And maybe her light will still shine as a result, but this time into the “real world” through acts of kindness and love by those who remember her. She was a skilled pilot, handy with a proton spanner, and heroic in a fight; but now, just maybe, she’s more powerful than we can possibly imagine.