RIP, Derek Reese

Barb Sherrill — Sun, 05 Apr 2009 15:57:53 -0700

So, they killed off my favorite character on Friday night on Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles.

I'm going to miss you, Derek Reese!

It happened suddenly. One moment Derek Reese--brother to Kyle Reese, beloved and revered icon in the Terminator saga, and uncle to John Connor, humankind's only hope against the machines of the future--was there; the next moment he wasn't.

Producers, I'm just going to put it plainly: I think you've made a huge mistake.

The show had been fumbling around in its earlygoings, trying to find some emotional grounding in the midst of the time travel, the death and destruction, the relentless pursuit by killer cyborgs. And the emotional pull wasn't coming from where you might hope it would come from--Sarah Connor. Honestly, Sarah Connor has only managed to look crabby throughout the series. I get it--I suppose if I were pursued by killer machines and my son was in constant jeopardy, I'd be crabby too. It might be reality, but it makes for very dull sci fi.

The best sci fi finds someone to be its emotional center.

And, surprisingly, the Sarah Connor Chronicles found it (finally!) when it time-traveled Derek Reese into the series. He was an interesting combination of battle-ready yet war-weary, tough yet tender. He, for example, as a birthday present for his nephew John took him to see the father he never knew, Kyle, when Kyle was still a kid (you can do those things when you're messing with time travel). It was a poignant and powerful moment--seeing the young man who would save us all smile at the dad he never knew.

Underneath his kick-butt, prison-camp-surviving, man-of-the-future exterior, Derek had a soul.

He went out unceremoniously--a quick shot in the head by a Terminator he didn't see coming. I found that interesting--no heroic sacrifice, no grand gesture. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and in Terminatorworld, that can cost you everything.

At the very end of the episode, they showed a gravedigger placing the box of Derek's ashes in an anonymous grave in a pauper's field, and I thought, That's how we all end up (okay, maybe not in an anonymous grave in a pauper's field, but you know what I mean). Some day there's going to be an end to me, and I might see it coming or I might not. Either way, I'm finite.

And as I thought about my end, I was surprised to find myself glad about things. Really, I was.

I was glad I had called my mom and dad that day and told them I loved them.

I was glad I had gone to dinner with a friend that evening and then went to a concert where another friend was singing in a community choir.

I was glad I volunteered at my church, helping 4th and 5th graders know Jesus better.

I was glad I had gone to Israel, had a dog for 15 years, learned to play the piano.

I was glad I sponsored a girl in Columbia.

I was glad I had read Great Expectations, sung the Hallelujah Chorus in a choir, seen Big Ben.

I was glad I had met Jesus.

I had a begining and I'm going to have an end, and I'd like to keep adding to my list of things to be glad about while I'm still in between the two.

That would make me very glad.