Nanoo Nanoo, Robin Williams

It has been a real rollercoaster ride for me since hearing about Robin Williams death. His life ended at his own hand and I feel so raw, so empty. I feel sad. It woke me up.

Yesterday the news broke. Yesterday I spent the entire day in a state of profound depression, crushed, immobile and paused. I tried to think about why this was affecting me so much. I tried to contemplate. I tried to make sense, reason. In a world that is so hard, so harsh and abrasive I tried to remember him. Honour him.

That didn’t come until today. Though I don’t think that I truly did honour him. How can you honour someone who seemed to have it all? That you didn’t personally know, but felt like you could? How can you profess anything but dismay at the passing of someone so influential. Someone so funny. Seemingly positive. Someone so unique and artistic that we, the world, felt like he was part of our family. He was part of our upbringing, he was part of a movement that opened our minds to so much.

So I am going to honour him now with my pitiful, meek words. I thank him for all he gave us, and will continue to give us. My heart goes out to his family, his circle. His people. His crew. His wife. Those who nurtured him through his dark days. Him, when he pulled through those dark days. Him, when he had the strength to fight the dark demons of depression. Him, when he found the strength to commit himself to projects, perform, create, when his demons were most certainly in full force attack mode. Him, when he inspired the world when unbeknownst to us, he was suffering.

Let us not define him by the fashion in which he left this world. Let us not define him by his illness. Let us not define him by his tragedy.

Let us remember him for his craft. Let us remember how he rocked generations. He was amazing, so hilariously intelligently funny. Fast witted. He is still one of the people I would love to sit at a dinner table with.

Nanoo nanoo, Robin.