It was with great sadness and total confusion that I learned Robin Williams died. He was loved. He was adored, and he will be missed. I remember the first time I saw Robin. Like everyone else in America it was on Happy Days. This crazy alien was standing on his head in a chair as Richie tried to have a conversation with him. His character was funny, energetic, crazy, and kind, all wrapped in a single package. As a performer Robin was an entire orchestra of human emotion and activity fired by an audience of adoration. Now that fire is out. How will we ever be warmed?
The summer before 8th grade I remember being at my friend David Condon’s house listening to Robin’s comedy album “Reality…What a concept.” Up to that point the only comedy albums I had ever heard were Bill Cosby, and Richard Prior. They were great story tellers with the ability to weave a yarn into something funny. Robin added a new twist. His delivery was fast, and manic, you could listen to his routines repeatedly and still pick up nuances. I had to be an adult to understand the whole routine. His humor required an education and an understanding of life that a 13 year old couldn’t easily grasp. Still, when you understood what he was saying, you patted yourself on the back for being smart enough to get the joke.
Cheech and Chong were for the stoners, and Robin was for the intellectuals. In retrospect this is ironic given who had the greater demons. In the late 70s and into the 80s Robin was one of a class of comedians who worked hard and played harder. His stories of drug fueled outings were material for later routines. It wasn’t until the death of John Belushi in 1982 that he decided to turn his life around. Belushi, like Robin, was larger than life, and his death from cocaine abuse was enough to make anyone stop and think about their own mortality. Now it’s 32 years later and we’re thinking about it again.
I’ve lost more than my share of family and friends over the years due to chemical abuse and suicide. There was Blacky, the boy around the corner, who we lost when I was six, who was nothing more than a confused teen with a hand gun. Then there was the younger sister of James who took her life at 14. When I was 16 my eldest sister’s boyfriend Steve shot himself in our front yard. The events of that night still haunt me to this day. It’s the most traumatic for me of them all since it was literally so close to home. About five years ago Steve’s cousin Brian was found by his own son hanging in his garage. And just a few years ago I lost a cousin Kirk when his body just gave out after decades of heavy drinking. Even my wife lost her father to suicide a decade ago. She speaks about him almost daily. They were all a great loss.
One of the dangers people face after these tragedies is thinking they could have done more to stop it. Unless you stand on top of someone for 24 hours a day, seven days a week, if they want to die, they will find a way. That’s not to say you shouldn’t do what you can. But you can’t waste time beating yourself up wondering if you could have done more. Another danger is being angry with the victim. This doesn’t help at all either. In reality, all you should do is remember and love them. If I had any advice I could offer Robin’s family and friends that would be it.
Pain brings humor. Given the amount of humor that came out of Robin, I can only imagine the amount of pain he felt. I’m sure this was the same pain my sister’s boyfriend felt when he took his life in our front yard more than 30 years ago. I was so angry at him that I’m not sure I forgave him until hearing about Robin last night. Like Robin he was quick, funny, and kind. He just couldn’t find a better way to get away from the pain. I’m sure all his friends and family thought about what they could have done to change those events. I’m not sure there is an answer. All we can do is remember them, and love them for who they were. For Robin, for Steve, for all of them. That’s what I’m going to do.
They deserve nothing less.
Rex