Requiem

I watch The Walking Dead on AMC. I get it that this is an apocalyptic world created by writers most likely sitting in a smoky room somewhere out west, brainstorming about how to develop an intense, realistic end-of-the-world devastation. I get it that this is a TV show. It's not real life. Rick does not really exist. Dale, Andrea, Lori, Merle, and the Governor do not exist. Maggie, Beth, Glenn, Michonne, Daryl, Carl, Tyreese, Sasha, and Hershel are not bona fide people living in my true world. But when writers, directors, actors, and all the other talented people on a TV show produce such an authentic situation with fully realized characters and they come into my home every week for three months or so, I get drawn in. I get hooked. I come to love some people, hate others, don't think much of some other quieter, more background people. I think it's safe to say that everyone who watches The Walking Dead hated the Governor and we were all happy to say goodbye. But Hershel. No. That was just wrong on so many levels. I admit I cried. Those damn writers killed off the only grandfather I've ever known and loved, even if he was fictional. Hershel was the center of peace in the colony. He was the grandfather to everyone and father to Maggie and Beth. He was the healer, and not just on a physical level. I (and from what I've read, many others) are angry that Hershel is gone. Someone pointed out that we are taking this show too seriously. I would say to that that it means the creative energy put into this TV show by all the people involved is deep, real, and committed, that they totally believe in what they are doing, in what they are giving their "audience."

I'm upset that Hershel is gone. I can't imagine what The Walking Dead world will be like without him. Thank you, Scott Wilson, for creating a character so beloved by many, if not all, of us who watch this series faithfully. You will be missed.