If there is any good that has come out of the tragic suicide of Robin Williams it is the universal outpouring of grief that has followed in the wake of the announcement of his death.
In a world made so callous that we could do nothing in the wake of the Newtown shootings, in a world so jaded that mass shootings on the streets of America barely register a blip on the radar of our national consciousness, in a world so conditioned to violence that we take as ordinary the slaughter of Jews by Muslims, Muslims by Jews, Christians by Muslims, and Muslims by Muslims in their tens of thousands in the bloodstained Middle East, in a world so resigned to sudden catastrophe that the disappearance of one jet and the deliberate shooting down of another are merely news stories that make us shake our heads but not cry out . . .
It strikes me as so ironically hopeful that our hardened hearts can be moved to tears by the loss of one man at his own hand.
The tears that have been wept, the questions that have been asked, they are all a form of catharsis in a world made insensitive. We've become aware --- for however short or long --- of the disease qualities of mental illness. We recognize that Robin Williams, that frenetic, perpetual motion man who made us laugh until our sides ached, had a very dark, sad, and brooding side that he did not share with us, that perhaps he feared to share with us. We caught just a glimpse of it in his dramatic roles, the ones that earned him his Oscar. And we are reminded that true comedy comes from pain. He was always in pain, clearly, always battling his demons.
We all have those demons, and this week the demons won a round. I can only imagine that a successfully suicidal person must suffer a complete shift in thought and brain chemistry just prior to the act, as the normal instincts for self-preservation are smothered. I don't know. I don't know if anyone knows.
What I do know is that we are all sad, not only because Robin Williams' brilliant voice has been stilled forever, but because we somehow all recognize ourselves in him, laughing on the edge of the Abyss.
Thank you Robin for years of laughter and deep reflection. Thank you for bringing us together to feel alive again even in the shadow of your death.
Friends, all we have is this present moment. Make it count. Set the world alight. Make someone smile. And that includes you too.
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