So there she is, Buffy Summers, standing at the edge of the crater where Sunnydale, California used to be and where it is no more. Supposedly, the Hellmouth closed forever. Or something.

And there I was, watching the last episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. The last episode. No more. That’s when the depression started. It was over.
Now, I’ve watched other shows and the finales of other shows, but I gotta’ tell ya’, I’ve never felt so sad at the ending of a show before. I’ve felt cheated, like with Battlestar Galactica, and I’ve felt satisfied, go, Firefly, but when I watched the last Buffy episode, I felt desolate.

No more Buffy. No more Willow. No more Anya.

Anya was my favorite. I wanted one more episode to watch how the Scooby gang handled her death. I’ll never forget Anya’s reaction to everyone grieving over Buffy’s mother’s death. How she couldn’t understand it, couldn’t understand everyone’s sorrow.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know I’m late to the party and Buffy’s last episode was almost ten years ago. Or something. Yeah. I’m late. And I’m stupid.

I tried to watch Buffy back in the 90’s, during its original run, but I couldn’t get into it. Season 1 was, um, iffy. Season 2 better, but not good enough. And if you try and come in midway, inscrutable. I had gay friends recommending it, and we all know all gay people have impeccable taste, but, well, I had Star Trek to watch.

Two huge lessons I’ve learned in life: listen to less Rush, more Prince. Watch more Buffy, less Star Trek. There.

So I kept getting slapped and beaten for not watching it. Seriously. Hit. “What–you haven’t watched Buff?” Smackola. So I knew I had to force myself to weather through the first couple of seasons. I did. And I am so glad.

Joss Whedon has genius, certainly, and we all either love him or hate him for it. I secretly want to eat his heart and brains, with onions, in hopes I can ingest some of that genius. The thing is, Joss Whedon can do conflict well, but his real brilliance is making us fall in love with his characters.

And I fell in love Buffy, Giles, Xander, the whole Scooby gang. And so, when the show ended, it was saying goodbye, a forever type of goodbye.

Sometimes I wonder if art and TV and novels are worth anything. If it’s all just a distraction from real life. Maybe to blind us from enlightenment.

But my life was richer for watching Buffy, gotta’ say.

Now, the spin-off, Angel? Um, I’ll post about that later.