Carrie Fisher meant different things to different people: Daughter of Hollywood royalty. Charming raconteur. Brilliant author. Ruthlessly honest chronicler of her own struggles. Most iconic film heroine of all time. All of the above.
But to daughter Billie Lourd, she was Mom, or Momby—and Fisher considered her only child her greatest-ever production. Her "most extraordinary creation."
"To my DNA jackpot—my daughter, Billie," reads the dedication in Fisher's 2008 memoir Wishful Drinking. "For all you are and all you will be. I want to be like you when I grow up." And in the acknowledgments of her final book, 2016's The Princess Diarist, Fisher wrote, "For Billie—for turning out better than I could deserve or imagine. But please get a housekeeper. Vegas will always be there."
Lourd gave the self-deprecating star a new lease on life when she was born in 1992, and they were thick as enviously clever thieves until Fisher died almost three years ago. She was only 60, had just been all over the world promoting her latest book and was fresh from shooting Star Wars: The Last Jedi. It was the most unwelcome twist she could've thrown at her legions of fans after a career built on never failing to surprise.