There are moments in my life that have been so pivotal, that they are burned into my memory. The first time I walked into a martial arts dojo. The day I first drove a car. The moment my Father lost all of my respect and I felt something inside me shatter. I am now in the quiet moments directly after these momentous ones. My Hero is dead. The one who provided me with an escape from my pitiable life is dead. The man who shaped me into who I am today, who helped found my very beliefs and the lens I view the world is dead.
Stanley Martin Lieber was that man. Although very few of you would recognize that name. He was known throughout the world he was known by another, more simple one; Stan Lee. Now, I know what you’re thinking. How could the death of a man I never knew, a man who simply wrote some comic books and showed up in a few movies could possibly have had such and impact on my life? The truth is, I don’t know. Maybe it was the fact that he called me into a different world when I was hurting. Maybe it was the fact that I saw him as a guide and role model and hero like no one I had ever known before. But it doesn’t matter how. It matters that without that man in the world, a little bit of light inside of me has gone out. If you know me, you know that that light, that true light, is already small.
I know the world will keep spinning. I know that life will go on. I even know that those comic books and movies which I so love will continue to come out. But for me, the world is changed. A little bit of hope has died. I don’t know why I’m writing this when I’m supposed to be doing my schoolwork, but I do know that to me, right now, there is nothing more important. My hero is dead.