I once was Lost, but now am found.

I know people might be sick of all the Lost talk these days. But don't worry. Unfortunately for most, it'll be over soon. I'm not about to try to recap the series finale of Lost. I'll leave that to Doc Jensen. I would just like to offer up some general musings on what I took from it.

I spent all day Sunday, May 23rd with an eerie mix of anxiety and excitement building inside me. Yes, it was all because of a TV show, but if anyone has had a conversation with me for about 10 minutes they should know how big a part TV plays in my life. Lost was on the verge of coming to an end with each passing hour and it was all I could think of. I was ecstatic and and tragically sad; nervous and somewhat relieved. All at the same time. All this for a TV show? Yes.

For six years we, as an audience, demanded answers to each new mystery every episode seemed to bring about. But did we ever once stop to realize that having those answers equaled the end of Lost forever? Probably not.

For six years we got to know these characters inside and out and maybe better than they knew themselves. We theorized, applied our learnings to our own lives, or simply just enjoyed a really great hour or two of television every week. And all the sudden it's time to let that go.

I've never felt so strongly about a TV show/series finale as I did this one. Sure there were times when I wasn't sure where the series was going, but I had faith; something so many of these characters were searching for and I believe they found.

I've written and rewritten paragraphs over the past five days (because let's face it, I'm still trying to process the events of the finale) about the omnipresent spiritual/religious/faith-based tone of the show. But mainly about the character of John Locke (my absolute favorite character). I think Terry O'Quinn said it best in the retrospective that Locke, the Man of Faith, "was a man that was desperately seeking faith, not (a man) who had faith. What drove him was the need for it. If he could simply find something to commit to; something to hold on to. That's what he was always after." Locke was searching for his faith and his purpose; something that I think a lot of people have in common with that character and certainly why I was so drawn to him.(I often have grand ideas for what I could do with my life, but I never seem to act on them. It boils down to my being too scared. Faith and Fear just don't go together very well.) At times Locke felt invisible, he didn't know why he was "here" until he landed on the Island. He was at an all-time low on Flight 815, but then asked in season two by Sun how he found himself, his purpose, he said, "The same way everyone finds something that is lost. I stopped looking." As frustrating and difficult as that can be at times, it's usually when we let go and move on that we really find our way, and sometimes we have to hit rock-bottom in order to do so.

I think that's a great lesson that can be learned from this show and something I really struggle with. I tend to have a hard time letting go of things, be it relationships, grudges, whatever. Moving on into the unknown is scary.

Every week after a new episode I would impatiently wait for a recap from Jeff Jensen (whom I referenced earlier) over at ew.com. His reviews range from 6 to 12 pages (13 for the finale!) of talk about the mystical Island. I don't pretend to understand half of the literary references he throws out, but it's fascinating. He's a true fan, not just a critic and seems to actually understand everything that ever happened on Lost. The next paragraph is from Part One of his review of the series finale. It made me cry the first time I read it. I believe it sums up so well not only the journey of Jack Shepherd, but of all the castaways.

His final scenes on The Island — the final moments of Lost ever — were puzzlingly poetic. I will try to describe them without crying. We saw him twitch back to life in the jungle, near a stream. I was reminded of Jacob finding the empty shell of his brother after the Holy Wormhole burped up the black smoke of MIB's corrupted soul. Jack got to his feet. He pushed through the bamboo forest. He found the spot where he had fallen from the sky some three years earlier, next to the tennis shoe dangling from a tall green stalk. He laid down. He clutched his bleeding, wounded side. He prepared for The End. Once upon a time, Jack Shephard was a man who could not believe in anyone or anything else except himself, and he was lost. But this Doubting Thomas found faith and healing by humbling himself and committing himself to a community of fellow flawed and fallen souls also yearning for redemption incapable of doing it alone. As he lay dying, he saw the airplane carrying his friends home, and he rejoiced for them. And then he saw into another world, where he was welcomed with open arms and bear hugs, and he rejoiced — for himself. Earlier in the episode, Jack told Kate he took the job of guardian because he had made a ruin of his life and that The Island ''was all [he] had.'' He was wrong, as he had been wrong about so many things in his life, but this time, he couldn't have been happier. And then Vincent trotted up and snuggled against his side. Jack's eye closed. He let go, and he was gone.

A lot of people have been really cynical about the finale. I can understand their arguments and I know that everyone is entitled to their own opinion, but I thought it was perfect. For what the show has become especially over the last season, I feel like this was the ending it deserved. We saw things come full circle, we saw everyone happy, we even saw these people in their afterlife! What more could you ask for, really? For a show that at some times was so complex it was difficult to keep up with the time frame of one episode, this simple ending was exactly what it needed.

I'm sad to see this show end. It really was groundbreaking and it will be hard to find a replacement that's so addicting. But I'm thankful for what I've taken from it, for what I have learned and have yet to learn.

Namaste!