There’s something irrational about feeling the pain we feel from Robin Williams’ death. Who are we to mourn the death of someone we’ve never met? Who are we to assume his family needs our condolences or worse, reminding of the tragedy that has destroyed their lives?
Why, then do we cry? Why, then, do we feel need the share? Share his laughter. Share his passion. Share his squint-eyed laughs that drew generations into a more loving and socially-aware family of “Orkians.” So, again, why does this morning’s silence sound so eternal?
An explosion’s first kinetic duty is to pull the oxygen from the room in a deafening roar of energy and confusion. The explosion that was the news of Robin’s death has done just that. And gasping for air and our senses, we clamor for something that feels familiar – something that doesn’t hurt. But the pain stays and the World is changed – forever.
Robin was, in life and death, an unbridled, atomic blast!
With Robin Williams’ death, we’re again smacked with the reality that no one is impervious to perils of depression and addiction.
With Robin Williams’ death, we’re again smacked with the reality that no one is impervious to perils of depression and addiction. We were able to witness one of the greatest characters on earth reach heights that made our collective stomachs turn and writhe. But we only saw his battle it from afar, and for as high as Robin could get, his lows were always there to bring him down – whether he (or we) wanted or not.
Irrational or not, we mourn for a life that was so big and so impactful, that it could carry the weight of the entire World on its shoulders. With Robin gone, whose shoulders will we rely on?
For a short time (maybe longer, I hope), national and international awareness of depression and addiction will have a voice through Robin’s death. We all will. But what then?
It’s not a loss when someone’s death brings to light the tragedy of affliction. It is a loss to let that tragedy extinguish our light.
We’ll miss you, Robin.
Image credit – insidepulse.com