Sir Terry Pratchett

Floating through space, gently drifting towards horizons unknown, is a giant turtle. And on his back rest four* elephants. And atop of their backs in turn rests a large disc, dropping off suddenly into a giant waterfall that cascades out into space. The turtle is the Great A’Tuin, the elephants are Berilia, Tubul, Great T'Phon, and Jerakeen, and the world is Discworld.

It is on the Disc that Terry Pratchett set his forty Discworld novels, and it is his most wondrous gift to our (rounder but only slightly less improbable) world. It is on the Disc that gods play dice and laugh at the fates of mortals atop Cori Celesti, the guilds of Ankh-Morpork turn chaos into slightly-more-orderly chaos, the witches of the Ramtops and the wizards of Unseen University (and its brother in Fourecks) play havoc with the forces of magic, and Death, who is really quite a pleasant fellow once you get to know him, stalks through his domain.

When I was twelve, my brother lent me his copy of The Colour of Magic on a family vacation to Florida. From the very second I first stepped foot onto the Disc, it felt like home. And the man who created it all, though I never met him, felt like family. 

I do not use the word “hero” lightly but Sir Terry Pratchett was my hero. He was sharp of mind and brave of spirit, and one could do much worse than to aspire to be like him. As a writer and as a human being, I hold Sir Terry in the highest regard, and in his passing, I feel that I have lost an old friend.

To get to know a stranger through the words they write on a page, the characters they birth and the worlds they build, the stories they weave and the jokes they tell**, is a beautiful thing. In his most beloved characters, I have found friends, role models, kindred spirits.

As a general rule I tend to avoid definitive statements, especially regarding people I have not met. In this case, however, I am willing to make an exception: The world was a better place for having Terry Pratchett in it, and it will feel emptier with him gone. My world certainly was a better place because of Pratchett and his creations. 

I could cite a list of Pratchett’s numerous accomplishments, or tell tales of the beautiful yarns he spun, or talk at great length about the profound personal impact his books had on me. I am confident that I will write more about Pratchett soon, especially as I expand my already vast library of his books. But there is time for that later. Now is a time for saying goodbye to a beloved man, and though I do so with a heavy heart I am glad that he died peacefully and am eternally grateful for all he gave us.
  

Sir Terry Pratchett, you were a god among men. You were an astonishing example of humanity at its finest, and certainly at its wittiest. You will be missed dearly and desperately. It will be hard to let you go, but you will live on forever in your creations, in the minds of your fans, and in those who loved you. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.

To Lyn and Rhianna Pratchett, and to who knew and loved him, I am so sorry for your loss. May his memory be for a blessing.

On one final note, I would like to second Neil Gaiman in urging you all to consider donating to Alzheimer’s research in honour of Pratchett and everybody else who suffers or has suffered from this devastating disease.

 Sir Pratchett's official coat of arms. The Latin translates to "Don't fear the reaper"

*Or possibly five, if you’re into that sort of controversial thinking...

**And to get to know a person through their footnotes is a whole new kind of wonderful.