It wasn’t until I read the news of Leonard Nimoy’s death today that I realized two things.
The first thing I realized was that I’d been expecting him to outlive not only my generation, but the next two or three as well. I’d thoroughly conflated him with the iconic Vulcan who triumphs o’er the tomb.
The second thing I realized, and much to my surprise, was that I actually give a damn.
I’d seen him as an octogenarian, winced at the watery eyes and the palpable weakness. Fading fast, he was, but I paid that no never mind, because Vulcans live hundreds of years.
It follows, therefore, that Leonard Nimoy should have lived hundreds of years, because Leonard Nimoy wasn’t Leonard Nimoy, he was Spock.
He was Spock, damn it.
He was Spock.