Farewell, King.

 

The death of Chadwick Boseman was such a shock to the world.  Not just because he was only 43, but because he gave us so many amazing performances while battling cancer no one outside his immediate circle was aware of.  I have to say I did think he might be sick after photos surfaced of him looking unnaturally gaunt, but it still felt like it came out of nowhere when he left us on Friday.  My son and I found out at the same time and just looked at each other in the silence of both disbelief and heartbreak.  We are a Marvel family if there ever was one - I don't think we're fully over Stan - and although Chad brought a number of roles to life in his short time with us, he'll be indelibly printed on our minds and in our hearts as the beloved Wakandan King T'Challa, The Black Panther. 

I planned to end this post there, but I just can't shake the thought of what he had to be dealing with - physically, mentally, emotionally and every other which way - all while delivering such amazing performances over the past 4 years, since his diagnosis.  To keep that illness private was to declare that there would be no excuses; to ensure this illness would not be any part of the conversation whenever anyone spoke his name.  A statement that his work would speak for itself.  For that alone, I have so much respect for this man.  We've all phoned it in at one time or another over far, far less.  That being said, we're no more entitled to know what people are dealing with than they are to know of our struggles, but it's safe to say we never know what somebody might be carrying.  So just be kind.  Be kind.

Rest in power, King.  #WakandaForever