This was a Best Of Holidailies 2008 entry.  Thanks!

It's technically Monday, so I can post now, and start working on trying to get caught up at least a little.

I'm not entirely sure how I'm going to get all this to work together, or even if I should try. I started watching the first half of Season Four (the final season) of Battlestar Galactica again. (I know the plan for rewatching the entire thing fell through the cracks, but that's what happens when life intervenes.)

I found myself once again in awe of this show. The character development has been incredible. I was struck, in particular, by a scene in Episode 04X01, He That Believeth in Me where Gaius Baltar prays for the recovery of a small boy. Religion has been a common thematic element throughout the series. The humans (the good guys?) are still worshiping a pantheon of gods, based (from all that we've seen to date) on the Greek pantheon that we're familiar with. I believe there were some trappings of Egyptian dogma in the original series, but I'm not familiar enough with that to confirm.

So while the humans pray to their gods, make offerings to them, heed the words of their oracles, and take their names in vain (odd that the removal of a single s makes all the difference between what will and won't fly on cable television; gods damn it shows up quite frequently), the Cylons (the bad guys?) are of a completely different bent. For them, or at least those that are of the believing variety, there is only one true God. In a way, this makes perfect sense as the Cylons were created by man. There would probably be, somewhere deep in their programing, a memory of this, and even possibly memory of the person that came up with the idea in the first place. This idea of a sole creator and savior of their race has grown over the decades (if not centuries) of their existence and has become more akin to the Judeo-Christian view of a monotheistic religion.

From the beginning of the series, Dr. Gaius Baltar has been a man of no faith. He doesn't believe in the idea of multiple gods sitting up in Olympus meting out fates based on their capricious whims. Even greater is his denial of the concept of a one true God that the Cylons believe in. He is truly a man of science, even when his own senses tell him that something isn't quite as empirical as he first thought. (Early in the series we're introduced to a Cylon that only he can see, hear, and touch. Much of what we learn of the Cylon's religion comes from her, at least in the beginning.)

To see this man of science, this man of reason, break down and finally ask for help from something that he may or may not believe in, is a fine piece of acting. Hearing him plead to God to spare the life of the sick child and take his own in place, riveting. Much more so knowing that he has never fully believed in such a thing.

That's just one scene. There are hundreds more filled with just as much depth, just as much character that the suspension of one's disbelief is very easy. Kara Starbuck Thrace, imploring the President to shoot her... If you think I'm a Cylon, then I am your enemy. Shoot your enemy! said as she hands her sidearm over to her. Something as simple as a wounded communications officer singing while he's in bed recovering from the loss of his leg; simply moving (almost as well-played as Pippin singing for the entertainment of Lord Denethor in The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King).

All in all, I find this show to be one of the best television shows in quite some time. In fact, I'm hard pressed to think of one off the top of my head that has affected me more, entertained me more, than this.

And it's all coming to an end.

While the legacy will live on (there's a planned possible series set in the Galactica galaxy which takes place before the first Cylon War), it's not really the same. Like when Richard Dean Anderson left Stargate SG-1, or when Joel left Cicely, Alaska. It's just not the same.

So with all the hype building up to the final ten episodes of Galactica, I find myself in a situation that is hauntingly familiar. Yes, I'm slightly depressed over losing something that has given me as much happiness as the show has over the years. I haven't started watching the webisodes that are currently on SciFi's website. In fact, other than watching some of the more recent episodes, I'm trying hard to not get swept up in it all. Ten more episodes, and it's all over.

In the spring of 2005, I was in a similar state. I had lost my job (due to outsourcing) in the IT field about half a year before, and working in a used record store. The shift in pay was really hard to deal with. And to top it off, Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith was coming out. What does the loss of the job have to do with any of it? Well, since around 1995, Kenner (and later, Hasbro) had resurrected one of my favorite pastimes. They were producing more Star Wars figures, vehicles, playsets, etc. I was able to become a collector again and was enjoying being able to pursue that hobby. After the pay cut, other items took precedence.

Back to the point, though. The last of the Star Wars movies was coming out. A series of movies that had shaped my childhood (I saw Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope when I was three years old. It was my first movie in a theater.) was coming to a close. All the excitement of looking toward the release of the next movie, attending midnight showings on opening night, waiting in long lines at the local Toys 'R' Us for midnight sales; no more.

I didn't realize how much that it was affecting me until after walking out of the theater from seeing a midnight showing of Revenge of the Sith. I felt empty. I felt alone. The buzz of the adrenaline rush was still there, but it was being overshadowed. That was it. The end. No more.

It was like something that had been in my life for as long as I can remember was gone. I think the fact that we all knew it was coming had helped in this situation. We knew that there weren't going to be anymore tales on the big screen of a place so long ago and far away. Mentally, and emotionally, I had steeled myself for it without realizing it. A good friend had passed, and I shed no tears because that is the way of life. Things end.

Eighteen years ago, on January fifth, my father, aged 48, passed after battling cancer for a few years. It began as a malignant melanoma, taking the form of a changing mole. After chemo and radiation, he was given the gift of remission. I believe that lasted for about a year. Hopes were high, and the thought was that he might have actually beaten it.

Then it came back. Harder and more widespread than before. I don't recall how fast it destroyed his body, but memories make it seem as if it was a very short amount of time. However, the time before... The time when we knew he had cancer, and what that ultimately would mean... Somehow that had prepared me.

My father was a good man. He was the best Christian that I ever knew. He was very intelligent (a double major in English and Electronics so that he could be a technical writer). He was there for me growing up. Never raised a hand against me in anger. I'm truly blessed to have had the parents that I did growing up. Unfortunately, I didn't realize that until years later.

The main thing that I remember him teaching my brother and I was this; whatever it is that you believe in, believe in it with all your heart, stand up for it, and never waver from that. Always try your hardest, no matter to whether or not you fail. As long as you do your best, that's all he'd ever ask.

I still don't fully recall if I was crying at his funeral or not. I'm sure I did, but I know it wasn't anything like Ma, or his parents. To me, his passing was simply another example of doing what he taught us to do. He had done his best. He had accomplished what he had set out to do (even if he didn't know it at the time), and then he moved on. To me, that is simply the way of Life. You do what it is that you're supposed to do, and then you move on.

Yes, I miss him. Yes I wonder if he would be proud of me if he saw me know. However, all I can do is simply be the best me that I can. Always stand for what I believe in, whether or not how popular or unpopular it may be. Always be true to yourself. Always.

So now that I've lived longer in this life without a father than I have with, there's still that hole. It will never completely go away. How could it? Without it, I wouldn't be who I am today. But it's over. There's no Pa II: The Sequel. I have memories and that's it. I have memories of the good times. I have memories of the bad times that he pulled us through triumphant. But there's no more Pa.

In a way (and please don't take this as me being flippant at all), when I think of him, it reminds me of walking out of the theater after the credits had rolled for Episode III. I know there's nothing more. All that is left are memories.

No, I don't think he would be offended by this comparison. After all, he was the one that took me to see that first movie. We shared that experience together. In fact, movies is something that we always shared. From the start to the end. One my favorite memories from near the end was watching Young Guns II with him at the East Towne Mall in Knoxville. It was even more of a bonding item since it was just him and myself. Since the movie was rated PG-13, that meant that my younger brother couldn't go. So, Pa and I watched Young Guns II together.

So now, as another thing that means quite a bit to me moves on, I'm reminded of the old adage the everyone knows. To me, Pa's life was a good thing. A very good thing. He taught me much about everything. He taught me how to be me.

But in the end, all good things must come to an end.

._._.