Death
In 2003, Ackerman said, "I aim at hitting 100 and becoming the George Burns of science fiction". His health, however, had been failing, and he last logged in to his Myspace page on March 19, 2008. Forrest was susceptible to infection in his later life and, after one final trip to the hospital, informed his best friend and caregiver Joe Moe that he didn't want to go on. Honoring his wishes, his friends brought him home to hospice care. However, it turned out that in order to get Ackerman home, the hospital had cured his infection with antibiotics. So Forrest went on for a few more weeks holding what he delighted in calling, "a living funeral". In his final days he saw everyone he wanted to say good-bye to. Fans were encouraged to send messages of farewell by mail. There were several premature reports of his death beginning November 6, 2008. John Landis recalled that "Although he was extremely ill he told me he could not die until he voted for Obama for President and he did." Forrest J Ackerman is interred at Glendale Forest Lawn with his wife Wendayne "Rocket To The Rue Morgue" Ackerman. His plaque simply reads, "Sci-Fi Was My High".
He died on December 4, 2008, at the age of 92. From his "Acker-mini-mansion" in Hollywood, he had entertained and inspired fans weekly with his collection of memorabilia and his stories.
Read more about this topic: Forrest J Ackerman
Famous quotes containing the word death:
“To die, to sleep—
No more, and by a sleep to say we end
The heartache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to—’tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wished. To die, to sleep.
To sleep, perchance to dream. Ay, there’s the rub,
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil
Must give us pause.”
—William Shakespeare (1564–1616)
“All good biography, as all good fiction, comes down to the study of original sin, of our inherent disposition to choose death when we ought to choose life.”
—Rebecca West (1892–1983)
“If thou art rich, thou’rt poor,
For like an ass, whose back with ingots bows,
Thou bear’st thy heavy riches but a journey,
And death unloads thee.”
—William Shakespeare (1564–1616)