I need to talk about Robin Williams. Though, I’m hesitant to do so. There’s nothing I hate more than media people and bloggers cashing in on the deaths and tragedies of others.
Okay, there are a few things I hate more. Like curry and Nazi murder and the KKK. But cashing in on death and tragedy? Not cool. I mean, the day after Williams’ death, my Apple TV featured an entire section dedicated to Robin Williams in the iTunes movie store. It seemed so touching, the way they did it. Made me sick, though, because all it really was, was a way to make more money. Everything in that section was for sale or rent. Death is a lucrative business for some. What can you do.
Yet, there is something to be said about Robin Williams and his sad sad end. For me. Personally. Thoughts I need to type out because writing is what helps me process things that are sitting heavily upon me. I had to let it sit for a few days first, so that I could more properly process it all.
Why is Robin Williams death so hard for me, personally, to deal with? Why did it hit me the way it did? And why have I not been able to shake the sadness it brings me?
When I saw the very first status update about him dying, my heart went cold inside my chest. I immediately started the denial stage of grief and refused to believe it until I verified it through at least two major sources.
I have been sad ever since. I have been mourning ever since.
But why? Celebrities die all the time. It’s shocking. It’s awful. But it never tends to hurt. It doesn’t tend to nab me in the heart. Williams did, though.
And it’s not the fact that it was by his own doing that gets me. Frankly, I’ve known enough incredibly funny people in my life to know that a great number of them also suffer from such incredible depression and a dark driving force which at some point gave birth to their humor. No, I don’t need to talk about how he went. It doesn’t matter. He’s gone.
Why does that hurt the way it does?