Dear Fans of Robin Williams,
I never knew Robin Williams personally. I never had an opportunity to be in the same room with him, nor, as far as I am aware at any given time, the same city. I am a simple small town girl with high hopes and big dreams. And yet, I am deeply shaken by the loss of this accomplished artist.
I am shaken to my core by what this loss can mean for us as a society of consumers. We so easily, these days especially, use things and then throw them away as if there was nothing ever important there. This happens so readily with artists. One minute they are our favorite, and the next minute, they are yesterday's news. And then the ever present question, what could be so wrong with their life? They have everything. And to the uneducated, it would appear that they do have everything; big houses, fancy cars, $$$ careers. But maybe, just maybe, that isn't enough. It's not for me. I could have all of those things and still be unhappy if I didn't have love and acceptance.
I may not have known Robin Williams, but I am also an artist. I was a dance teacher and performer for 13 years, and a performer still before that. The mere consumer lacks the detail and scope that an artist dedicates to a performance; character development, wardrobe, analysis, demeanor, execution... The list goes on and on. We performers and artists dedicate our lives to the enrichment of others. We open our hearts and our souls to the average person so that for a brief moment, they can live outside of themselves. We dream big enough so that we can share those dreams with others. It is difficult to live so dangerously on the edge of self because of the fine line that separates us from disaster. Yet, there we are. Our souls are open. Our feelings exposed. There is nothing to hide or hide behind. One wrong move, and we fall. And it is never a quite unnoticeable fall. It is the kind of fall that back in Jr. High School meant that you had your mother call you in sick for a week to give the other kids a chance to forget about your blunder and move on to the next person. But when you live in the lime light, they never forget.
We know of Robin Williams substance abuse problems. Many knew he suffered with depression. Most denied the second. How can a man that is so funny and spontaneous be depressed? He can make me laugh, why can't he be happy? I ask, why is this the business of anyone else but him?
I am grieved by this loss because of the unknown. How many more characters could he have developed in the course of his career? How many different ways has he made us laugh. Who hasn't quoted the Genie? His laugh was intoxicating. His smile had a healing quality. When he cried, we cried. When he laughed, we laughed. He took on the roles and characters that helped make a difference in my life and had a huge impact on me. Needless to say, I was a huge fan. Patch Adams taught me how to treat people, no matter that circumstances. What Dreams May Come took us on a journey through Hell to be reunited with love. Good Will Hunting gave us a professor that actually cared more about his students than his career. Hook brought us the grown up child that lives inside all of us. And who could forget the Genie on Aladdin? I never will.
Robin Williams may be gone from this physical world, but he has left behind a legacy of laughter and tears; of lessons and learning; and of fun and frivolity. I can close my eyes and see his smile and hear his laugh. I only used a few examples of his career because they are the ones most near and dear to my heart. I was too young for the days of Mork and Mindy and to be honest have never watched a full episode, but thanks to the power of technology I will be able to see those when I am ready. I can relive all the moments of the wonderful actor that was so familiar to me that he could have been a friend, had we only had the opportunity to meet and greet. I will grieve the loss and hope beyond hope that we will see him again on the other side. His work in this world was so great and touching that I think at some point, the soul becomes so wearied... That's all I will say about that.
Grievingly yours,
Summer
