Vaya con Dios

It's no secret to those who know me that I love Patrick Swayze. Or, to put it more precisely, Bodhi. Sure, I'm a girl, so of course I've seen Dirty Dancing a million times, and when I was fifteen I went through a phase where I thought I was S.E. Hinton, so I love The Outsiders and was peeved when one obituary referred to Swayze as Dally instead of Darry. But Point Break was truly the greatest Swayze movie of all. His most powerful onscreen pairing was not with Jennifer Grey or Demi Moore, but with the handsome dullard Keanu Reeves. They were perfect foils, "fire and wood" if you will. They made the tired cliche come alive. You may laugh (many do) but I find that however silly the story may be (delightfully so) the relationship between Bodhi and Johnny Utah feels real and heartwrenching. Swayze spoke every line in that movie like a prophet letting wisdom tumble from his lips. Even "Back off, Warchild. Seriously." I think of his words every time I find myself creeping along the freeway in my metal coffin. The final goodbye absolutely kills me. I rank the last ten minutes or so of Point Break up there with The Searchers and Notorious as Perfect Endings.
I never met Patrick Swayze. I don't feel too sad about his death, maybe because it wasn't much of a surprise. But I have been thinking of him a lot since his death. Mostly I'm just very, very grateful to him for playing such a big part in such a fantastic movie. Like Bodhi, Swayze will live on forever after death.