Why It's Hard to Talk About Robin Williams

I was coming out of a faculty meeting when I checked my phone and saw the unusual amount of text messages I had received, all from different people. That's how I found out. I was looking down at my phone and walking to my car and then I wasn't. I froze half-stride, shocked and suspended in disbelief. I recovered enough get into my car, put on my sunglasses, and surreptitiously shed a few tears as others were leaving the parking lot to go home. I deplore getting emotional in public. I avoid crying and am not prone to it. This doesn't make me stronger. In fact, I am a bit jealous of people who cry so easily and comfortably in front of others. But this news broke me.

I went home and cried more. I talked to my mom numbly on the phone. She was the reason I had such a strong love for Robin. I grew up with books about him decorating our living room end tables and his films lined our tv cabinet. Robin and I shared the same birth date, a fact of which I have been so proud growing up. I shared my birthday with my favorite entertainer and comedian of all time. I felt blessed.

I shared my reaction on Facebook so my friends would know I was aware and to pay tribute, then I stepped away. It was still too near for me to keep seeing the barrage of articles, lists, criticisms, and statuses about our loss of such a kind, generous, joyful man. The next day, I logged back in and before I even had time to scan my newsfeed I saw the crass headline, "Robin Williams: dead by asphyxiation due to hanging." I lost my breath again. I retreated to the bathroom and wept for the second day in a row.

It's hard to talk about this. It's hard to think about it at all. It is too painfully familiar.

I lost my closest friend, my cousin Marcus, the same way as the world lost Robin. Marcus was brilliant, hilarious, warm - many of the things that I loved about him were the things I loved about my favorite actor. I just saw an article about why funny people struggle with mental illness and depression. It all hits so close to home for me. I identified with Robin. While neither I nor anyone else have anywhere near the same talent for comedy as he did, nor do I struggle with addiction, I have seen my share of doubt, self-loathing, and depression. I love to make people laugh. I love to add to the joy in the world. But sometimes those talents turn into walls around my own vulnerability and personal demons.

The world doesn't like it when the comedian cries.

That's why it's hard to talk about Robin Williams. I feel like I've lost a part of my own identity; that my hero has fallen under the sword of some of the same demons I battle. But I am also left with an example of a life that was overwhelmingly lived for others through laughter, sincerity, and an open heart.

Thank you, Robin, for your life. You were a gift to me in some of my most hopeless moments. I hope you now have found the peace that eluded you in this world.