When I heard the news about Robin Williams’ passing, I felt the same disbelief that millions of people did; that swirling mix of shock and sadness, that sharp sense of loss, and the painfully profound tragedy of it all.
I asked the same question that you may have asked: How could someone so loved, so beloved, so talented, so meaningful to so many; weigh the joys and the struggles of this life, and decide that it wasn’t worth sticking around for?
Seeing the outpouring of heartbreak and gratitude filling social media, and the fresh wave of grief flowing through the world today, my thoughts turned to my best friend Terry. Terry and I were childhood pals, who spent our pre-teen days swimming, romping through the woods, eating entire pizzas, and calling late night DJ’s to play our favorite songs. We were brothers, by something other than blood; by choice and by love.
I remember hearing the news that Terry had committed suicide. I was working in a frame shop during my college years, and I had called home to talk to my family, when my mom told me that he was gone. Just like that… gone.
I felt then, what the world is feeling today.
I felt my stomach turn and my heart sink. I felt the dizzying flood of sorrow and disbelief. I flew backwards through the movie of our lives, and saw how much we did and shared, and about how much Terry meant to me.
At then I just felt pissed-off.
When someone leaves the world, they leave a gap; a gaping hole which they alone occupied; one that they filled with their once-in-a-creation, never-to-be-repeated combination of humor, and intelligence, and wit, and flaws, and beauty, and dreams.
It’s a hole that becomes an open wound for those of us who remain here, and we can never close it completely.
I was fiercely angry at Terry for leaving, and even angrier that he wasn’t here to know the depth of my love for him; that he wasn’t able to hang on long enough to see how far the ripples of his life traveled, and how much his living meant to all of us in this place. The sad thing is for Terry and for Robin, and for most of us, is that people only express this stuff after it’s too late.
The twisted irony, is that the very words of effusive love that just might keep people alive, are words we save for after they’re dead.
I think we should give people living eulogies.
I wish that we stopped and took the brief seconds it would require to pay tribute to our loved ones lives while they’re living. It might not make a difference to someone who is deeply depressed. It may not be enough to tip the scales toward Life for them, but it’s a chance worth taking.
If you’re out there reading this, and you’re hopeless; if you feel that there is no point to this life, no value to your own, no reason to keep going, understand that you are Robin Williams.
Look around today at the sadness of the world, the way humanity is grieving, maybe even look at your own sense of loss in his absence, and realize that this is what you’ll be leaving behind if you walk away.
You may never reach the heights of fame that he had.
You may never have the accolades of Presidents and celebrities.
You may never have worldwide tributes or magazine covers.
But you will leave the same un-fillable hole in this world; one that only you occupy.
There will be the same devastation and loss for those who know and love you (which I assure you, is far more than you can see from where you’re standing).
There will be the same wave of grief moving through the places you’ve touched.
There will be the same horribly sad reality, that this world just isn’t as grand and beautiful as it was with you in it.
I wish Robin had known how loved he was. Maybe he would have stayed.
I wish my friend Terry knew how loved he was. Maybe he did would have stayed.
I want you to know how loved you are.
Maybe you’ll stay.
