I'd made peace with the fact that this day would come, but it still made me sad when I heard the news. I could go on and on for a thousand words about all the ways Stan Lee's larger-then-life persona did, in fact, loom large for me as a young fan and aspiring storyteller. But the main takeaway was this: he had a voice, a distinctive and inimitable way of expressing himself in printed words that I would argue will be his enduring legacy. Bigger than the ideas he brought forth as a young and hungry creator, bigger than the goofy up-for-whatever grandpa persona he happily inhabited in his elder statesman days, he made his mark as a wordsmith. When you read something penned by Stan the Man, you knew it was penned by none other.
RIP.
