I am heartbroken.
2018 saw the loss of many great minds. Admittedly, some hit me harder than others—Anthony Bourdain and Stephen Hawking, for instance. And now, Stephen Hillenburg. The creator of Spongebob Squarepants died yesterday at just 57 years old. He had a rare muscle weakness disease called ALS. He started working on the iconic characters of Bikini Bottom in 1999. If he had lived just a little longer, he would have witnessed the celebration of his legacy’s 20th Anniversary.
To be honest, I was surprised by my own sadness. It felt deeper than I expected. Now one thing you need to know about me: I love to analyze myself. Or rather, I can’t help it. (Love is the wrong word. Most of the time, I actually loathe it—but that’s another story.) So instinctively, I put my sadness under a microscope. And I’ve come to this conclusion: His death, to me, felt like the end of my childhood. Or a substantial part of it. It’s the end of an era, as Joey Tribbiani so famously said.
I guess the news of his sudden passing feels worse because I never really realized how much the series meant to me. The truth is, I haven’t thought about the cartoon for so long. I have grown up and moved on to new favorites: Adventure Time, Bojack Horseman, Rick and Morty. Spongebob got buried at the back of my mind, similar to how my childhood toys are now kept in packed boxes and dusty chests at home. The moment people started to post their tributes, my own Spongebob-related memories came rushing back. And it feels like I’m opening that chest again and seeing my worn-out childhood toys in a nostalgic light. Suddenly, I remember the late afternoons or early mornings when watching the cartoon would fill my life with simple, unadulterated joy; Suddenly, I remember treasured family moments that center around our collective love for the series (My dad is probably one of the biggest Spongebob fans out there.) The little girl who finds comfort in those silly characters seems far away now. And that, I guess, is the root of my grief.
It only goes to show how much we take the “trivial” things for granted. Sometimes what we consider minute, or mundane, affects us much, much greater than we imagine. Yesterday, I found myself wondering if Stephen ever thought, “What a silly legacy I would leave behind: a sea sponge, a pineapple house, a dumb starfish.” At the last moments of his life, did he found contentment knowing he’ll forever be known as the “Spongebob guy”? I hope he did. Because while it may feel inconsequential in contrast to the seriousness of Bourdain and Hawking’s legacy—to a generation who found joy, meaning and valuable life lessons in Spongebob’s undying optimism and epic adventures—it’s more than enough.
Art by Marian Hukom
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