Losing Lost

Tomorrow will be a watershed moment in TV entertainment history.  "Lost", that show that millions have come to love, is scheduled to come to an end.  I don't know if the conclusion will be enough to satisfy me and the other rabid fans out there, but it will be a conclusion nonetheless.  Perhaps this is for the better.  We've been annoying non-Lost watchers for long enough, going on and on about our lunatic theories of moving islands, parallel realities, quantum physics, smoke monsters, and the meaning of ... well, just about everything.

But this has been more than just a TV show for me.  My wife and I have been married for seven years, six of which (i.e., almost our entire married life), have been spent avidly watching this show together.  Not only can we measure the milestones of our life with the passing of Lost seasons, but we can also give thanks for the many friends we've made who are prone to the same nervous tics and mad rantings that each episode of this show gives rise to.

Things are not perfect though - the executive producers enjoy going on talk shows touting how they won't answer some of the questions their own writing has raised so that "the show can live on after the finale."  This is just code for "we didn't know what the heck we were doing at various points of the story arc, and now have no way of wrapping up that particular sub-plot."  Still, I'm willing to forgive these transgressions.  Lost represents the most intellectual and intriguing show that has graced the airwaves, and does not shy away from questions of philosophy, faith, and science.  It requires devotion to the nuances of each scene of each episode, and encourages discussion afterwards because no individual can hope to parse the meanings of each plot twist.

So it is with a heavy heart that my wife and I will sit down to watch the series finale tomorrow.  Regardless of what happens on the show, we know that we'll have spent the last six years on a crazy ride that promises one last, unknown, reveal.