Found . . .

Warning: Do not read this if you haven't watched the finale! Spoilers!

For six years, I've watched the castaways on Lost struggle through every sort of obstacle imaginable. I was there when the show was great; I watched it while the story floundered and viewership fell away. And I was relieved when it got good again, when it had me glued to the seat and scratching my head after every episode, transfixed by something so different, so fascinatingly original, I knew it would never be duplicated. And, I was watching every Tuesday this last season, knowing it was coming to an end.

I know last night's finale will polarize fans. It will piss people off. There is a little bit of the whole "Dallas-Bobby's-Dream" quality to the ultimate resolution. But, I thought it was beautiful and perfect, and I was utterly satisfied with the conclusion. I was not confused, as many seem to be today; it made absolute, graceful sense to me.

The island was purgatory. The people who came there weren't ready to go on yet. They had to stay and become who they were meant to, find each other, grow up, fall in love, figure out who they were supposed to be. They were all lost people, alone, foundering. When they fought so hard to get away, at the end of last season, they created the Sideways world, where they got to explore the life the could have had if they hadn't crashed and resolve their issues finally, using everything they had learned on the island. They finally had the chance to let go. This season was all about balance and letting go. In fact, the series has been about that, with black and white, good and evil, pushing a button or not pushing it, believing or questioning. There was a lot of faith in Lost. I'm glad I spent six years with them. I know nothing like this will ever come around again.

The final image will stay with me a long time: the beach, with the downed Oceanic flight 815 just like in the pilot, but as it really was. Silent. No survivors.

Not lost any longer.