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‘The Death of Superman’ was 17 years ago

It’s been 17 years since the death of Superman. I was a couple weeks shy of my 12th birthday at the time. The story’s little more than a footnote in the character’s existence now, despite how all-consuming the event was when it was still new and ongoing.

Like weary boxers who have gone the distance, the combatants collide in one last, explosive effort. In the years to come a few witnesses will tell of the power of these final punches…that they could literally FEEL the shockwaves. Others will remember the enormous crater that resulted from the sheer force of the blows. But most will remember this sad day–

–as the day the proudest, most noble man they ever knew–finally fell. FOr those who loved him–one who would call him husband–one who would be his pal–

–or those who would call him son–this is the darkest day they could ever imagine. They raised him to be a hero…to know the value of sacrifice. To know the value of life.

And for those who served with Superman in the protection of all life–comes the shock of failure. The weight of being too late to help. For a city to live, a man had given his all and more.

Lois: Please hang on! The paramedics will be here any second! PLEASE!
Superman: Doomsday…is he…is he…
Lois: You stopped him! You saved us all! Now relax until–

But it’s too late. For this is the day–

–that a Superman died.

~ Excerpt (Dan Jurgens, Superman #75. November 19, 1992)

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