While not officially cancelled, HBO’s Deadwood remains in limbo, with two two-hour movies to finish off the series in style dwindling into the more remote realms of possibility with each month that passes. David Milch, the creator, writer and executive producer of the show may have moved on, but I have not. I am still mourning, and remain unappeased by the news that Milch is now working on a new show for HBO, the unpromising sounding John from Cincinnati. Seriously, how good can a show described as “surf noir” be?

So, in memoriam, and notwithstanding my hope that the show will get the conclusion it deserves, here are the top five things I will miss most about Deadwood.

The Atmosphere

I have no idea how many extras are used in the scenes set in the main strip of town, but it’s enough to generate the no-holds-barred pandemonium that gives the show its atmosphere of impending violence. The generally temporary looking sets, the natural lighting, even the mud plays into the sense that this isn’t a real town; it’s a mob with props and a plan for getting rich quick. But by season three, the atmosphere has mellowed out as political and economic forces dilute the turmoil into a town, albeit one where corruption is the overriding law. But the mud remains as thick as ever, and the chaos bubbling just below the surface is always palpable.

The Palette

Deadwood was never a show for black and white moralists. From the very beginning, an iterative theme was the complexity of defining right and wrong in a place without a moral compass. Deadwood’s triumph was to bring the setting and the politics of the time into the story as a way of exploring the conflict between law and order and right and wrong. In the very first episode, Sheriff Bullock (Timothy Olyphant) hangs a man out of…what exactly? Rage? Spite? Law? It’s unclear, and the sheriff’s temper problem often stands in stark contrast to the ostensible villain Al Swearengen’s compassion. Over and over, we are invited to share in the triumphs and despairs of every major and many minor characters in the show, whether their acts and choices are aligned with our own moral values or not.

The Language

There are still many TV watchers who have yet to experience Deadwood in all its magnificent vulgarity. This makes sense, because Deadwood—for all of its television trappings—is mostly a literary experience. The florid, experimental scope of the language has repeatedly encouraged comparisons to Shakespeare’s iambic pentameter, while the over-the-top non-stop swearing has as frequently invited critics to question the need for it. Stagy monologues are part of the package, and E.B. Farnum (William Sanderson) and Al Swearengen get the best lines.

The Voices

Deadwood is set during the set in the 1870s in the midst of the gold rush fever in the Dakota Territory. Most minority groups are hardly well represented in the historical records of the time, but the series manages to give poignant voice to many of the groups who sustained the gold miners, even while experiencing often brutal exploitation. Various factions of sex workers and Chinese and Black residents all get compelling storylines and an opportunity to offer at least a glimpse into their lives and perspectives. Trixie ( Paula Malcolmson ), Al Swearengen’s one-time whore and ongoing spy, is an example of a major character cobbled together from one or two anecdotes of various events in the real town of Deadwood, perhaps a few medical records, and a sympathetic appreciation for the plight of sex workers. But despite giving the marginalized citizens of Deadwood exposure, the writers never shy away from the ugly realities of the time; they make a point of showing the incredible disregard most members of the camp held for these groups.

Al Swearengen

Of all the characters on the show, it’s the original villain that I will miss most. I’ll miss seeing his stout figure loom over his balcony at the Gem Salon, his hooded gaze, skeptical eyebrow and deadpan wit, and how Ian McShane brought just the right amount of fire in the belly to the role. (Look for more of Ian McShane’s intimidating gaze in Sexy Beast .) Swearengen’s eloquent meditations on his quest to maintain order in his tiny kingdom serve as the lynchpin for the series, as well as the heart that undercuts the show’s brutality.

In lieu of a moment of silence, please join with me in enjoying some pancakes, Deadwood-style.