I, like everyone else, or at least those I’ve heard discuss via blog posts, Facebook, etc., was saddened to hear about Robin Williams’ death.
When I got online last night and this morning, I had things popping up all over the place about Robin’s death. I’ve read so many things I agree with. I just came across this post and think it’s a good one.
Depression, like any other illness: Cancer, Alzheimer’s, MS and so on, are all tremendously sad to watch and endure. Unfortunately, the stigma around depression isn’t the same as most other life altering issues, which is extremely unfortunate. All it does it make it worse for those with depression and I think more people are fighting the mental battle than anyone could possibly imagine.
Robin Williams was an extremely good actor. He was talented and I don’t think there is any denying that. I think he touched a great deal of people on a larger level than just seeing him act on the movie screen. His words and his movies stuck. His delivery stuck.
My favorite movie and performance Robin Williams did was Good Will Hunting. These are words that stuck with me.
So if I asked you about art, you’d probably give me the skinny on every art book ever written. Michelangelo, you know a lot about him. Life’s work, political aspirations, him and the pope, sexual orientations, the whole works, right? But I’ll bet you can’t tell me what it smells like in the Sistine Chapel. You’ve never actually stood there and looked up at that beautiful ceiling; seen that. If I ask you about women, you’d probably give me a syllabus about your personal favorites. You may have even been laid a few times. But you can’t tell me what it feels like to wake up next to a woman and feel truly happy. You’re a tough kid. And I’d ask you about war, you’d probably throw Shakespeare at me, right, “once more unto the breach dear friends.” But you’ve never been near one. You’ve never held your best friend’s head in your lap, watch him gasp his last breath looking to you for help. I’d ask you about love, you’d probably quote me a sonnet. But you’ve never looked at a woman and been totally vulnerable. Known someone that could level you with her eyes, feeling like God put an angel on earth just for you. Who could rescue you from the depths of hell. And you wouldn’t know what it’s like to be her angel, to have that love for her, be there forever, through anything, through cancer. And you wouldn’t know about sleeping sitting up in the hospital room for two months, holding her hand, because the doctors could see in your eyes, that the terms “visiting hours” don’t apply to you. You don’t know about real loss, ’cause it only occurs when you’ve loved something more than you love yourself. And I doubt you’ve ever dared to love anybody that much. And look at you… I don’t see an intelligent, confident man… I see a cocky, scared shitless kid. But you’re a genius Will. No one denies that. No one could possibly understand the depths of you. But you presume to know everything about me because you saw a painting of mine, and you ripped my fucking life apart. You’re an orphan right? … You think I know the first thing about how hard your life has been, how you feel, who you are, because I read Oliver Twist? Does that encapsulate you? Personally… I don’t give a shit about all that, because you know what, I can’t learn anything from you, I can’t read in some fuckin’ book. Unless you want to talk about you, who you are. Then I’m fascinated. I’m in. But you don’t want to do that do you sport? You’re terrified of what you might say. Your move, chief.
You’re not perfect, sport, and let me save you the suspense: this girl you’ve met, she’s not perfect either. But the question is whether or not you’re perfect for each other. – Good Will Hunting
I’ll be praying for Robin’s friends & family as well as those fighting such a scary battle.