“Everything is still normal,” says Stephen Colbert — yet his quiet farewell to The Late Show feels anything but.NH

Stephen Colbert has never been one for melodrama. Even as The Late Show moves toward its final curtain, he stands at the center of it all—composed, focused, and still cracking jokes. When asked recently how it feels to prepare for the end, his answer was simple, almost startling in its calm: “Strangely, everything is normal because the show is never normal. I’ve got nine months of shows to do. I can’t be thinking about it ending in May. I’ve got to think about the show on Monday.”

It’s a sentiment that captures Colbert’s essence perfectly. For nearly a decade, he has greeted America from behind that gleaming desk at the Ed Sullivan Theater, turning politics into punchlines, grief into grace, and chaos into laughter. But now, as The Late Show edges toward its conclusion, the man who’s made a career out of irony finds himself in the curious position of trying to process something deeply personal while still performing for millions.

When news broke that Colbert would be wrapping up his tenure, the entertainment world erupted with tributes, nostalgia, and disbelief. Fans called it “the end of an era.” Colleagues described him as one of the last greats — a performer who blended intellect and empathy, heart and humor, in a way few could. But Colbert himself resists that narrative. To him, there’s work to be done. “It wasn’t that normal when I had to tell everybody that the show was ending,” he admitted, “but the next Monday, I had to do a show.” That’s the heartbeat of his philosophy: the show must go on, not because it’s easy, but because that’s what he’s always done.

Behind that pragmatic attitude, however, those close to him sense a quiet sadness. He’s not someone who wears emotion on his sleeve, but longtime staff members say there’s a subtle shift in the air. The laughter backstage feels more tender. The conversations stretch a little longer. The moments of silence carry weight. After all, this show has been more than just a job for Colbert — it’s been a vessel through which he’s connected with millions of viewers and processed some of the most turbulent years in modern American history.

From his earliest days on The Colbert Report to his transformation into one of late-night’s most beloved figures, Colbert has always used comedy as a lens to examine truth. In an age where outrage sells and cynicism thrives, he chose something different: sincerity wrapped in satire. His humor could sting, but it always came from a place of hope. That’s what made his version of The Late Show unique — it wasn’t just a stage for jokes, but a sanctuary for thought and feeling.

So as the countdown begins, many wonder what “normal” really means for Stephen Colbert. Perhaps it’s his way of protecting himself — of grounding the surreal reality of farewell in the discipline of routine. Each day, he still shows up, still meets with writers, still fine-tunes monologues, still greets the audience with warmth. “I can’t think about May,” he said. “I have to think about Monday.” For him, that’s the only way to face the inevitable — one show at a time.

Industry insiders say CBS is treating these final months with reverence. The network owes much of its modern late-night identity to Colbert, who not only revitalized the slot once ruled by David Letterman but also redefined what late-night talk could be. His interviews blurred the line between comedy and catharsis. His political monologues often sounded more like thoughtful essays than punchline parades. And during the darkest days — from national tragedies to the pandemic lockdowns — his presence offered comfort, laughter, and perspective.

Even as he insists that everything is “perfectly normal,” there’s a poignancy in watching Colbert navigate this final chapter. The same man who once said, “You can’t laugh and be afraid at the same time,” now faces a different kind of fear — the unknown that comes after the lights dim and the applause fades. Yet true to form, he’s meeting it with grace, humor, and humility.

Colbert has never chased legacy. If anything, he’s often uncomfortable with praise. But whether he admits it or not, his influence on American comedy is indelible. He bridged intellect and absurdity, faith and irony, sincerity and satire — often in the same sentence. His farewell won’t be marked by spectacle, but by authenticity, the very thing that’s defined him from the start.

As Hollywood prepares to say goodbye, Colbert’s focus remains on the next show, the next audience, the next laugh. “Everything is still normal,” he repeats, though the weight of those words grows heavier each time. To him, normal means doing the work — showing up, giving his best, and letting the laughter carry the rest. For everyone else, it means preparing to lose a nightly voice that made the world feel a little lighter, a little smarter, and a little more human.

And when that final night does arrive, Stephen Colbert will likely do what he’s always done — smile, thank his team, tell one last joke, and remind everyone that endings, like laughter, are just another way of saying, “See you again.”