There’s so much going on in my head about the death of Robin Williams that I scarcely know where to begin.
My heart aches for his daughter Zelda who left social media because of the negativity she’s gotten, probably because a lot of people view suicide as a coward’s way out. All I can say to those people, is that I fervently pray something like this happens to you. Maybe then you’ll figure it out.
Others equally insensitive wonder what he could have possibly needed to be depressed about. He’s got fame and fortune. To those people I’d say, you are a shallow human being if you truly believe that all that is required for happiness is fame and fortune. And depression is not a need. It’s not something that’s required to live your life. In fact, as in Robin’s case, it’s enough to destroy your life.
I have known of many many celebrities who have died during my lifetime, but for some reason Robin Williams’ death has hit me hard. Yesterday I sat at my desk at work and teared up reading the responses of his friends and other celebrities with whom he worked. I teared up again this morning when I saw bits of Jimmy Fallon’s tribute to him.
It deeply, deeply saddens me that a man who was clearly loved by all who came in contact with him – both in person and on the screen – was so troubled in his heart that the only way he felt he could escape the pain was to end his own life. He spent his life making others laugh, yet the laughter, I suppose, didn’t quite reach the deepest part of him.
I hope that Robin is now finally at peace and that time will heal the family he left behind.