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Life after death

The final episode of the final season of television’s best show has just aired on HBO. Now what am I going to watch? It will be several months before The Sopranos has its last hurrah. I might as well just keep the box on Boomerang.

I rarely watch regular TV at all anymore. What’s the point? I’ve been weaned off of commercials thanks to my remote and Tivo. Even with those conveniences, none of the cop shows or lawyer shows or doctor shows or detective shows hold any appeal for me. I don’t have the time or patience for them. I have to be selective these days.

“Six Feet Under” was something very unique and very special. It only lasted for five seasons, but it felt like a lifetime of great drama. Alan Ball, its creator, did the right thing by putting it to rest this year. Better to leave early than to stay too long. I’m glad that it never “jumped the shark.”

At first what seems to be a show that revels in death is really more a show that celebrates life and all its unpredictable changes. Every episode began with the demise of the Fisher family’s latest “customer.” Sometimes it was bathed in black humor. Sometimes it was shockingly stark and random. It always got your attention. It certainly helped to put the myriad of problems that the show’s character endured into deep perspective.

In the last couple of episodes, the deaths got closer to home beginning with Nate. That single event threw the cast into a tailspin. It was a strange sensation, because after investing in these wonderful characters for so long, I could feel the trajectory of those final scenes as if they were happening to me.

The last show this Sunday was the only episode to begin with a birth instead of a death. Brenda’s premature child struggled throughout for life. Eventually she was granted a reprieve and lived, thankfully. It looked like the story was going to end on a high note.

Rico was back with his wife and kids and starting his own funeral home business. Keith and David took over the Fisher family business after David finally freed himself from his lurking fear of red hooded sweatshirts. Ruth came to grips with her own life, as did Brenda. Claire was off to New York to seek her fortune as a photographer.

There’s a big farewell party for Claire near the end. A toast to Nate around the dining room table ends the evening as if everyone is saying goodbye to each other. It’s a solemn moment that is characteristically broken by a dream sequence.

Suddenly it’s good old Nate being his sarcastic self from beyond, MTV-style, as he belts out “I just want to celebrate another day of living!” dressed in a white suit and mirror shades. Claire snaps out of it and turns off her clock radio. It was just a crazy dream. Time to get up and make that trip from L.A. to New York.

It’s this final montage as Claire gradually speeds toward the east coast in a sort of time-lapse journey that “Six Feet Under” proves for the last time what a phenomenal program it had become. As the music swells and grows more insistent with each bar, we are given glimpses of where each person’s life is headed right up to the point of their own deaths. Nothing is left for conjecture. Alan Ball has the final say as he uses his creative powers to write each character out of existence.

This speeded -up denouement is a fitting conclusion to a show whose business was death. In a strange way, it validates these characters by giving them each a beginning a middle and an end. They are put to rest and so are we.

In one early episode, Claire asks Nate why people have to die. Nate gives about the best answer I’ve ever heard. He says, “So life can be important.” It’s just one character’s opinion, a throwaway line in a small scene, but it’s a good example of how the characters reacted and related to each other. Maybe they got it, maybe they didn’t. They were gloriously imperfect.

“Six Feet Under” was a show filled with ghosts and apparitions. It was a show that surprised you. Anything could happen in the minds of these TV people. The occasional fantasy sequence helped to define a character’s feelings. It was amusing and sad and true and frustrating, just like life. It made you think, and that’s rare for a television show these days. I’m sure Alan Ball has something else planned for our viewing enjoyment. You can’t just turn off a mind like his. He’s got the remote.