“We had gay burglars the other night. They broke in and rearranged the furniture.”
– Robin Williams
Robin Williams. It’s impossible for me to say his first name without his last name. I always say it complete.
Robin Williams. He is one of the great comedians—and also an effective drama actor—of all time. To me, he is a symbol, a representation of anything happy, true, pleasant, and hopeful. And he’s such a character! He’s a kind of person that you wanna be friends with. Or work with! So funny, inspiring, spontaneous, energetic, and full of life! He made movies that are really good—”Dead Poets Society,” “What Dreams May Come,” “Mrs. Doubtfire,” “The Bicentennial Man,” “Patch Adams,” these are titles of his movies that I got the chance to watch. With the kind of job he has, earning huge bucks just for doing that thing he loves, I’ve always believed that he is a man who will always be okay.
It was 12th of August 2014, Tuesday. Waking up around 6 in the morning to get ready for work, my younger brother cornered me by the door. Then asked me pointblank, “Have you heard the news about Robin Williams?”
I haven’t heard about Robin Williams in a long time but my instinct told me, judging by my brother’s style of questioning, that something bad happened to him. “He’s dead?” I asked. My brother answered in the affirmative. The cause: suicide. He hanged himself. He was 63. I was told he had been suffering from depression for quite a long time.
Shocked. That’s my first initial reaction. Then grief, like I’ve lost a friend, one of my symbols of hope in this cruel damn world. Then anger, wishing it was the dumbass, the self-righteous who killed themselves.
I’m sorry Robin Williams. I’m sorry we weren’t there for you to cheer you up the same way you cheered us up when we were down.