“DON’T THINK OF IT AS DYING.” said Death. “THINK OF IT AS LEAVING EARLY TO AVOID THE RUSH.”
Sir Terry Pratchett was an author of wonderful satirical humour and insight and a favourite author of mine. He was a genius. I know he was a genius because when I met him I said, “I think you’re a genius!” He replied with a smile, “I think so too.” and so it was settled.
He died yesterday suffering from a form of dementia at the tragic age of only 66. He was an advocate for dying with dignity and died as he wished to, at home, with his family and his cat sleeping upon the bed beside him. It was said that he died of an embolism.
Millions of people mourned him. Websites crashed from how many people reached out to express their sorrow at his passing. How extraordinary to think that writing fantasy novels would touch so many that millions of people would mark and mourn your passing? His books will live forever but it saddens me that there are now a finite number of them with just a little bit more still waiting to be published. His books always made me smile, think, and invariably murmur to my husband with laughter in my voice, “Listen to this…” as I read him a particularly juicy nugget of words. I’m glad I got the chance to thank him for that in person.
The final Tweet, on his Twitter page was: “Terry took Death’s arm and followed him through the doors and on to the black desert under the endless night.”
Here is his legacy.