Legacy of the Departed

Foreward

A/N: Please be warned: This fic contains discussions of death, both real and fictional, as well as suicide ideation. If these subjects make you uncomfortable, read at your own discretion.

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"I wasn't ready

You can't prepare

For the unthinkable

For something that's so unfair

It's cruel but that's how life goes.

But through the sadness

Thousands of tears

We see his message

Sparkling and clear

Our work is larger than we know."

– Indomitable, by Jeff and Casey Lee Williams

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I wasn't actively posting any stories when I heard the news about Kirby Morrow's passing, so I never ended up saying anything publicly. I didn't want to bring it up two months later, either, when I began posting my next story, because I didn't want to open old wounds. But also because my feelings about the situation are private and don't need to be publicized just so everyone knows that 'I'm sad, too!'

Now it's been almost a year, and I still have some complicated emotions. I can't help but wonder how we're supposed to feel about losing someone we didn't even really know? We have seen him through interviews, conventions, stories from his friends, etc. but that isn't enough to understand the full complexity of an individual. Do we even have the right to feel sad? When are we grieving for a character versus the person themselves?

As a whole, the world has lost a lot of creatives in the past few years – or really, we've always been losing them, it's just more noticeable when they're names that you know. The question is, how do we draw the line when it comes to the artist and their work? It's normal to feel some measure of disappointment knowing that their art can never be continued or finished properly. But we also want to recognize the humans behind the work, the individuals and the complex lives they led, as well as the friends and family they left behind. And yet, without knowing them personally, for many of us it's hard to feel the level of emotions that seem appropriate for such a loss. In fact, I think many of us feel so little for the individual, and so much more for their art. And for that, I feel a little guilty.

At this point in my life, I'm blessed to say that loss is still not familiar to me. I've experience very little, and I'm still not sure what to make of it. In the case of Kirby and other public figures, I don't think I can say that I've really lost anyone either, because my daily life is hardly affected. It sounds callous to say, but the point is, I didn't know him, and chances are you didn't either.

However, I still want to recognize a person who had such a positive impact on my life, and the grief felt by those who really did know him. In trying to figure out how I ought to feel about this, I've come to realize the value in simply acknowledging. It's something that we all do in our own way. Some through works of art, some through kind words to the friends and family of the deceased, and some simply through thoughts and prayers, which can be just as valuable for those of us who don't have the skills or means to create such elegant effigies. Sometimes there's only so much we can do. But simply recognizing that there was a real person behind the art that you loved so much can be enough.

I could go on for pages and pages about what an impact Ninjago has had on my life, as I'm sure we all could. Between getting me through some physically and mentally painful times, to teaching me about the world and how to confront its problems, to introducing me to new interests and individuals, to simply making me smile on a regular basis. The power of art can never be underestimated, and Ninjago would not be what it is today without each and every person who has contributed to it. Every little action we take has endless ripple effects, and I think we can all say that none of our lives would be the same without this show.

So it's impossible to publish this story without addressing the inherent irony. Especially now that Andrew Francis, the voice of Morro, has been announced to be reprising the part of Cole in future episodes. The idea for this fic originally came to me as a Morro story, and that's primarily what it still is. But inherently, it is based off of a Cole story, and that can't be ignored. Like many of my other ideas, I had written a chapter or two before putting it away for a whole year, only remembering it long enough to add a couple paragraphs every now and then. But over this past summer I got the urge to pick it up again, and inspiration just started flowing. Halfway through, I was listening to the song listed above, and I began connecting some dots that I hadn't noticed before.

In spite of all this, I want to keep my acknowledgement to Kirby relegated to this foreward, so rest assured, the story itself won't be super gut-wrenching or overly meta – maybe just a tiny bit – and again, it's supposed to be Morro's story. I hope it can stay Morro's story. But I couldn't get around the elephant in the room, so I wanted to address it up front, because in a way, the fic still ended up being kind of cathartic to write. I hope it can do for you what it did for me.

I will be forever grateful to Kirby and his work. He won't be forgotten, but will continue to impact our lives in ways we may not even realize. Every life is valuable, and every action leaves behind lasting effects. "The goal's not to live forever/But eternity loves the creations of time."