Why
is it that I feel compelled to blog when a celebrity dies at [presumably] their
own hand? It’s not like I know them
personally, or what demons they faced while still alive. Everyone’s story is different. Everyone is unique, and their story matters. Your story matters. God, do I sound like TWLOHA or what? I should be a blogger for them. You know, from afar, `cause Florida’s a bit
far away. Anywhoooo…
Everybody
of my generation probably has a Robin Williams story. Their favorite TV show or movie, maybe an
appearance on a talk show, a time when they heard a joke & almost peed
their pants (I swear this last one does not apply to me directly!). Or maybe they have met him, & he was just
so gracious & friendly. I can't remember
when I first saw Mrs. Doubtfire, but it was undoubtedly (pun intended) my first…
or one of my first. When I was a senior
in high school, in Mr. Snow’s creative writing class, he was somehow able to
show us a clip of Dead Poet’s Society, along with others, like Shawshank
Redemption. In a very conservative town,
with seemingly strict guidelines on, well, everything, they were very critical
of everything done in a classroom setting, and my teacher only showed us bits
and pieces of certain movies. Right now,
I can't even tell you what scene was played in class from DPS. All I know is that THAT is my Robin story.
Suicide
touches everyone is some shape or form.
Whether you’ve survived 3+ attempts yourself, or have lost someone
close, everyone knows the sadness behind it.
And yet, it’s still taboo to talk about.
Why? Today’s news only goes to
show you that it even effects the rich & famous. I almost thought for a millisecond that when
I heard the story on CBS News tonight that it had to be a hoax, like those you
see on social media on what seems like a daily basis. But then, why would a major news network be
breaking into the nightly news to broadcast it if he wasn’t dead? There are still reports trickling in, and as
I type, suicide hasn’t been 100% confirmed.
I believe the last report I read was that he was reported missing &
so the cops went to his house to check on him, & found he was deceased, in
an “apparent” suicide (no clue where I read that so no copyright infringement
intended). But as with the last blog
post on this subject, his life was not a waste.
His story matters. Everyone was
affected by him, his laughter, his infectious personality. Lets just remember that this, once again, is
not a waste. How would you feel if
someone considered your life or your death as a waste?
I
wish I had some witty closing to this post fitting of the great man, but I can’t
think of anything. I also wish I wasn't sitting here on my patio typing this, listening to my iTunes playlist entitled "Cry Songs," and feeling very, very emo. I feel like I should be
able to think of something clever to describe how I feel right now, but I don’t. So I’ll just leave you with these links. And if you know me personally, you know my
story, what I've been thru & continue to go thru on a daily basis, and have
my phone number & need to talk, I’m always here for you.
Carpe Diem.
