I have written this blog entry numerous times with several different titles. I want to say all sorts of things to the global community that are nearing on the profane, because I am disgusted. But then I caught myself saying “keep your opinions to yourselves” and realised I was saying that in my own opinion…so that doesn’t really work.
So instead, as the world is still coming to terms with the loss of Robin Williams, I will try to spend my energy instead on celebrating what he gave me.
Completely unknowing, as Mork, he gave me the reassurance that we are all different. I wasn’t the only one that didn’t know the right words, and maybe dressed a little weird.
In Good Morning Vietnam he reminded me to stand by my convictions at all costs.
In Jumanji he reassured me in my belief that all things are possible.
In Dead Poet’s Society he entreated me to seize the day.
In Good Will Hunting he reminded me of all those teachers who fought for me even when I didn’t fight for myself (and he “lived” on my street in Southie…extra bonus points.)
In Patch Adams he made my heart burst.
In What Dreams May Come he made me really come to terms with depression in someone I love, and that I could do nothing to save her except to honestly accept her world the way she saw it, no matter how much it hurt me to do so.
So many gifts he gave to me personally, and yet we never met. I am heartbroken, selfishly, to know I will not see another film, or new routine, or other creative outpouring of his soul – yet all that is overwhelmed by my gratitude for having been able to grow up with him in so many guises.
Thank you, Mr. Williams.