O Captain, My Captain

Like most everyone else born in the 70s, who grew up during the 80s, my earliest experiences with Robin Williams began with Mork and Mindy. We even sat through his incarnation of Popeye, despite Shelley Duvall ruining any hope of actually enjoying the movie. (Seriously, my distaste for that woman knows no bounds). Fast forward a few years, to Good Morning Vietnam, then Dead Poet's Society where he quite charismatically encourages his students to STOP conforming and think outside the box, think for themselves, rip up their textbooks, and really LIVE, during a time when morals and conformity and doing what you're told was more valued and accepted by the general consensus. A few years later would come Hook, where he very convincingly played the boy-man Peter Pan, who'd forgotten who he once was. One of his more beloved, at least by me, roles would come in the form of Batty Koda, the whimsical lab-traumatized bat and comedic relief in Fern Gully, followed by the Genie in Aladdin, and the man who had the brilliant idea to cross dress as a British nanny so he could spend more time with his children after his continuous screw-ups landed him and his wife in a divorce in Mrs. Doubtfire. Other roles, such as Alan Parrish in Jumanji, his role in The Birdcage, and the professor in Flubber put him solidly in position as one of the greatest comedic actors of all times. Robin Williams is not just "the funny guy" though, with movies like Good Will Hunting and What Dreams May Come under his belt. He proved, in more than one instance, more than just two or three movies, that he was capable of serious acting in serious roles just as well as he could be funny.

While he had been busy putting out all of these great movies though, he was also a father and a husband. He had a life outside of the camera, and what we may never know, is the pain that he was in. It takes an enormous amount of pain to push someone to the point where they no longer wish to live. Every single moment I have ever thought about him, I see that infectious smile he carried, or hear his voice as he delivered some outrageously hysterical line that I find myself quoting more than I probably ever should. Some may say it's crazy to be so torn up and hurt by someone's death, but I see it this way: He may never have even known I existed, but he knew the extent of his reach... He knew that he was loved by millions. I grew up watching this man, he became the characters he played, and  he made our life a little bit better by being a part of it, even if he didn't know all of our names. None of that matters, because we knew HIM. The artist puts a bit of himself into everything he does, and that is precisely what Robin Williams did for us.

Tonight my heart is heavy with an emotion I cannot even express. I can't cry, the tears simply will not come. The more "enlightened" side of me wants to say that I can celebrate the life of a man who lived to make people happy, but I can't do that either because the child in me is mourning. We cannot know what caused him to do it, to end his life. There may be a note or something that gives an idea of it, but ultimately that is between him and whatever higher power he believed in. The one thing I do have going through my head, is the "what if" portion of What Dreams May Come showed me... that movie really dug into me the first time I saw it, "what if that's really what happens?" and if that IS what happens, I truly hope that someone somewhere has the guts to go find him, like he searched for his wife once he learned that she had committed suicide, and rescues him from that hellish limbo she was trapped in. I cannot fathom an afterlife, or whatever you wish to call it, where he should be trapped like that. My heart breaks to think that someone so full of life like he always seemed to be, would be so ripped apart inside that he could not keep on living. I only wish that he knows, even if it's too late to change things, how much he was loved. Mr Williams, thank you...