Farewell, Mr. Williams.

So I know that there have been hundreds, maybe even thousands of people blogging about the passing of Robin Williams. Yes, this post will add to that collection.
When I heard the news, I was leaving work. It didn't really sink in until I got home, and I cried for about an hour. You see, I've never had the terrible experience of losing someone close to me yet, and with Robin Williams it sort of felt like that. I grew up with him. He was in almost all of my favorite movies. {Now, granted, he was in some duds, but what actor isn't?} The first movie I saw with him in it was Aladdin. Then Flubber. Then Hook. Then Jumanji, Mrs. Doubtfire, A Night at the Museum, Dead Poets Society, Happy Feet. All these movies taught me valuable life lessons.

Be honest with people.
Don't be afraid to create something.
Never stop dreaming, even as you grow up.
Follow the rules.
Laugh a little. Or a lot.
Never stop learning.
Never stop expressing yourself. 
Love poetry.
Always believe in something bigger than yourself.
Support a good cause.

My brother and I watched Flubber, Aladdin, and Hook a countless number of times. We laughed together and played pretend, re-enacting the movies. When I think of childhood, Robin Williams' characters are all there, helping me grow up. I know that there has been a lot of talk about how wonderful he was, the greatest actor we've had in a long time, etc. but this is real for me. I know that when I end up losing someone close, it will be nothing like this. The pain will be more real, more sharp. As of right now though, this pain is real and this pain is sharp.

Even as I write this post, a heaviness is upon me.

Perhaps another reason this hits me so hard is because I too struggled with depression. I know what it feels like to be sad and confused and feel like there is only one way out. It's a weight on your chest that you can't remove. A breath you just can't take deep enough. A fog that even the sunniest of days cannot break through. For some, medication and therapists help relieve the pain. For others, God truly intervenes and they have an incredibly strong will. For others, like Mr. Williams, they feel trapped. Every eye is on them and wondering what next big thing they'll do and how will their career benefit me and what can they do for me, what movie can I see next, what role will he play? Perhaps he was starting to feel so isolated because all he was in society's eyes was an actor, ready to be placed in a new role for society's benefit. In no way do I pretend to understand what he was going through, or the thoughts that swirled around in his head.

I take a deep breath and hope that light has been shed on the seriousness of depression. I pray for his family, that they are comforted through this unbelievably hard time.
I read a blog post by Andieology and she said this:

"I care when a celebrity dies because it shatters that tiny illusion that we maintain, that celebrities have the ultimate life. The best of the best. We forget that they are just ordinary people who have done extraordinary things."

So Mr. Williams, I just want to say thank you. Thank you for teaching me how to laugh. For teaching me to believe in myself. For giving my childhood something wonderful. I love you and I will never forget what you've taught me.


  1. "A fog that even the sunniest of days cannot break through." Yes. Yes. All so beautifully said.

  2. well written here love! i hadn't realized how many movies from my childhood he was in until i started thinking about it. he touched so many lives.


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