Or so I thought.
I don't know why this one hurts so much. Maybe it's because I grew up with him? Because I've enjoyed him so much for my entire life? I remember the rainbow Mork suspenders I had when I was five years old. (My first cosplay, I guess?) I remember seeing Popeye in the theaters with my parents just a few years later, and loving it completely. I have the same memories of Good Morning, Vietnam. And Hook. (Oh, Peter Pan! Why did you have to grow up?!) I watched Mrs. Doubtfire and Jumanji over and over, just because of the way it delighted both the boy and the man in me at the same time.
And I've seen Dead Poets Society so many times I can practically quote the whole movie. I don't know when I'll be able to watch that one again now. At the very least, I know I'll never be able to see it the same way again.
Maybe it's because it was apparently a suicide? It's possible. Might be the connection to my own mother's death. But I haven't reacted this way to other suicides or overdoses, so why this one? Maybe it's just the fact that suicide adds that final crack of heartbreak to the story. We didn't just lose one of the greats forever; we lost him to himself, to his own demons, to his own sickness. It feels like there must've been something that could've saved him. It feels like it didn't have to end this way. And it touches us all because, let's face it, haven't each and every one of us been there, or somewhere close to it, at least once in our lives? But if we could survive it, then why couldn't he?
I think it's true that there are few things more sad in this life, than a funny man, with a broken heart. His mentor, Jonathan Winters, knew that only too well. But he survived it anyways. It's too bad he couldn't be there to help his friend, who clearly needed him more than anyone knew.
Like so, so many of us today, I feel the need to pour my heart out to the memory of this funny man, who's been there my whole life, in some vain and desperate attempt to figure out just what in the fuck it means to live without him now.
Below, I've collected some of my favorites that other people have been sharing today. Some are funny, some are poignant, some are heart-breaking. But they all made me feel something. And that's helped, at least a little.
Here's hoping it can do the same for any of you.
Every time I hear a siren I still say "that's my ride." Thank you Robin Williams. I wish your ride had not arrived.
— John Hodgman (@hodgman) August 11, 2014
Spontaneous tribute appearing at the bench in Boston, made famous from the scene in Good Will Hunting. |
We mourn
the loss of our friend Robin Williams, who always made us laugh and
smile. pic.twitter.com/UOY8LTjVRA
—
Sesame Street (@sesamestreet) August
11, 2014
"Robin Williams is not dead, he is just waiting in the jungle until somebody rolls a 5 or 8." -testingonetwothreetesting, via imgur
"One of the funniest people alive died from sadness." - chili1179, via imgur
Nanu
nanu.
— SarcasticRover (@SarcasticRover) August
11, 2014
Come on in Rob. I got
you.
— Jesus Christ (@jesus) August
11, 2014
The first comment on this image, from NancyNevada, I think says it all: "When Peter Pan dies, don't tell us to grow up." |
Goodbye pal.
Thanks for everything.
— Louis C.K. (@louisck) August
12, 2014
This was reportedly posted to Disney's FB page this morning. Heart-wrenching. |
"But
doctor, I AM Pagliacci."
That's the
only way this makes sense. Can't stand thinking of him being
that sad. #RIPRobinWilliams
—
Patton Oswalt (@pattonoswalt) August
11, 2014
And finally, this is how I always want to remember him:
Your barbaric YAWP! was heard around the world, sir, and inspired MILLIONS.
And you will always be my captain.
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