Mr. Williams

It seems fitting to do a post about someone you feel you’ve lost. I find it impossible to fully comprehend how someone can feel so lost to an enormous amount of people despite never having met. It’s very telling about his talent. He was Robin Williams, and Robin Williams intimately knew Genie. He did not become Genie. He made Genie a very real and tangible being. Mork was someone from our childhood that is now gone. Robin Williams had control over that person as well.

Perhaps the amount of loss is so great because in the death of Robin Williams, we did not just lose a great actor and phenomenal comedian. We lost countless other souls Robin was responsible for bringing to life. Mourning the loss of this great man is impossible without mourning the simultaneous loss of Mrs. Doubtfire.

These characters were never supposed to die. They didn’t die in the movies and TV shows that introduced us to them. It’s almost a betrayal that this reality could happen. I think that’s where the shock comes in. Like being kicked in the gut when watching a terribly brilliant plot twist you never saw coming. …. only now, we didn’t even buy the movie ticket.

This seemingly gentle and somehow humble human being had so many exhaustive facets to his personality, it seems only fitting his death would have an equal number. On one hand, it’s positive that this can bring to light a discussion so many avoid; Depression. It can be the most tragic type of debilitating and invisible disease.  Suicide. Something so direly inconceivable and seemingly avoidable.

How can one who brings joy to so many feel he could not confide and trust in just one? It would only take one person to help. And even if not directly, to make a phone call.

The thing that is sticking with me the most is what his wife must be going through. To have your husband feel so bitterly alone and vulnerable and not know, or be able to help would be devastating on an entirely separate level. My husband has had his struggles, and I have found a renewed appreciation for the simple fact that he came to me and talked about it.

I couldn’t fix it, but being able to talk led him to the help he needed and made him open to the reality of it all.

But this is not about my husband or myself, it is about a man most of us mourning him never knew in person. He seemed so generous with his spirit that it’s hard to escape the feeling that each of us were allowed a glimpse into the bottomless offering of his personality and talent.

I sincerely hope he finds peace and rest and the expansive, open, infinite audience he deserves. His spirit and brilliance was something not meant for enjoyment only in our small selfish plane of existence.
















On a personal note, my first memory of Mr. Williams was Mork. I loved this show so much as a child, one of my first drawings was an Egg. That was the most amazing thing in the world to a five year old. The first movie I saw him in was Moscow on the Hudson, when my mom watched it on TV. It was released in 1984. I was 8 and I recognized something otherworldly about this actor even at that age. It still sticks with me now at 37. What more can I possibly say?

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