I Suddenly Remembered My Charlemagne

Longtime followers may remember that once upon a time, I was an aide in a nursing home. I started just after my sixteenth birthday, and stayed until I was 21. Amongst other things, I learned what happens when you survive fifteen minutes without a pulse.

It's a long time. It's such a long time. More than enough for her brilliant brain to lose function, for her limbs and her tongue to slow.

But enough time to hope.

And I did. I did, even though I knew better. Because that is what we do. That is what she taught us. Get up, speak up, stand up. Hope.

But I didn't want to see her in a wheelchair, unable to talk. She shouted so much and she gave so much, and it's probably selfish of me, but I wanted her to go out in a flash, here one day and gone the next, preferably three decades from now.

A friend said: I'm weirdly glad it was a heart attack, you know? People who spend their lives in combat with bipolar don't die of heart attacks. She beat bipolar, and she beat it by calling it out and refusing to let it slide, silent, into every aspect of her life.

My princess is a senator too, and a general. The woman behind her is even more besides. They were ANDs. AND instead of OR. I love them both for that.

I'm so sad. So sad. She's in all of the things I lean on when I feel like this. I got my Christmas card from Lucasfilm today. I could never have imagined that. But ever since her heart attack was announced, I'd been imagining what this was going to feel like.

But I'm happy too. I'm happy that she was in TFA and I'm happy we got the General to round out her story. I'm happy she loved Twitter and had Gary. I'm happy for that footage of her dancing with Daisy Ridley. And it's the happy things that keep making me cry.

I know she was so much more than Star Wars, but Star Wars is, as in all things, my heart. And right now my heart is a little broken. But I'll get up, speak up, stand up. And she'll be a lot of the reason why.

Depending on the day, thinking about Alan Turing either makes me incredibly angry or deeply, deeply sad. Here was a man, after all, who worked hard to save his country. Who used his not unconsiderable brain power for good. Who let himself get locked away at Bletchly Park to break and make codes. Who contributed in a big way to the British side during WWII, and who was, ultimately, betrayed to his death.

There was no one around to tell Alan Turing that it got better. And it didn't. His country used him, simple as that. Used him and forced "treatment" on him and then wouldn't let him leave to go someplace more tolerant.

One of the things I enjoy most about the Sanctuary fandom is how it can incorporate historical figures. To start with, I learned a lot more about them, but I also came to understand their feelings within the scope of history. I had heard Sir Ian McKellan talk about it, what it means to live as an unconvicted felon, but it didn't really hit home until I was plunged into a fandom full of people for whom it did not get better.

So today, spend some time on the Google Doodle. Remind yourself that the British government issued a formal apology for what they did to Alan Turing three years ago, showing that we've grown. Remember that it wasn't and could never be enough. Be kind. Be brave. Keep growing. Love. Do everything you can to ensure that it keeps getting better.