Robin McLaurin Williams, 7/21/51 – 8/11/14 (Photo: Patch Adams, 1998 film)
Saying anything about the death of legendary comedian, actor and Chicago native, Robin Williams was a little difficult for me last night. I suppose enough time has past now, the sun is up on my end, eating breakfast, at work and starting my day. I’m still affected, but moving forward is our best and only option at this point. But I’m in the mood to reflect…
A few people have died this past week though…legendary action film director and producer Menahem Golan, actor J.J. Murphy who died four days into filming the new season of Game Of Thrones, mother and father who fell off a cliff in Spain while trying to take a vacation selfie as their children watched in horror…and even the hundreds and hundreds of deaths that have taken place between Gaza and Israel, and so on.
In reality, no single death really is more important than another. However, its the impact that really matters. Williams, young and into his 60’s, touched the lives of anyone who saw him and were compelled to laugh at his iconic brand of humor. He brought heartfelt drama, emotion, and compelling performances to his characters, funny or sad. His movies were contemplative, entertaining, fruitful and theraputic to humanity, and carried such a great deal of weight that was healing and wonderful.
What is more sad though, is that as electrifying as he was to the public, his suffering remained hidden, despite his known substance abuse and depression, and there will always be a certain extent of his suffering that we will never know about because we aren’t in the room. Only his family and closest friends may likely know of this on a much, much deeper scale.
It’s emotionally exhausting mourning so many people, when all the rest of us really want is for humanity to go on, live, prosper, make love and be happy. But tragedy strikes, and Williams‘ passing is one of those that hit the hardest at the core.
Williams understood people, loved his fans and cared about making people smile. That is the Robin Williams I know.
It’s the same Robin Williams that helped me get through high school when I endured my first and utmost horrible break-up in my late teens. (And high school already sucked…boy oh boy.) Hell, I almost met him when he premiered his 1997 movie, Flubber at my old high school – I couldn’t because I had to be on my way home.
It was a missed opportunity and one I regret a little more now that he’s gone. Although, even if I never got to meet him, the world felt less lonely knowing Williams was still around, bringing light into someone’s darkness. Only now, the sunrise doesn’t feel the same this morning.
Williams is gone, and like with most other similar situations, time will be our only band-aid until this scar heals.
The struggle is real. Depression is real. If you are dealing with this in any capacity, click here for help if it suits you. Either way, all I ask is that you not feel you are alone.
I had no one to hug last night when I couldn’t sleep because I was still processing all this in my mind and broken heart. It was an awful nightmare. But, I am glad I have this platform. This is my outlet, and if my thoughts matter to you here and inspire you a little more, then all the better. I certainly hope so.
Stay healthy, people.