The Robin Williams Post I Needed to Write

I remember being upset when Michael Jackson died. And Christopher Reeve. And John Denver, Hughes and Ritter. Each time, I was measurably sad. Each time, I remember where I was when I first heard the news. And each time, I remember having it affect me enough that it took me a moment to process that an iconic figure in my life was gone. I was moved and I was mournful but I never cried. After all, I didn’t actually know any of these people so why would I be moved to tears over their deaths?

But yesterday changed everything.

I have a CD of TV theme songs in my car. I made the mistake of popping it in this morning. Never mind the sniffing and sniveling I exhibited when I first heard the sad news yesterday. Today I found myself engulfed in a full-on sob. And it was a little confusing at first. Because I couldn’t really figure out why. Why was the death of Robin Williams affecting me so much more profoundly than any other in my memory?

And the more I thought about it … and him … the more apparent it became.

When I was a wee pup …

I remember pleading to get extensions on my bedtime so I could watch TV. We didn’t even have cable yet. So there were only three channels from which to choose my television programming. I had several favorite shows, among them was Happy Days. I never missed an episode. Even after Fonzie jumped the shark. What did I care? I was a kid. And, to a kid, jumping over a live shark is nothing short of awesome. So when the producers of Happy Days further pushed the envelope by introducing an alien to the cast, I was all in. I remember even having a bit of a crush on this lunatic with the bluest eyes I’d ever seen. So I was thrilled when he spun off to his own show. And the best thing about it was that my dad was sitting next to me for every episode. After years of dissing much of the goofball comedy that I called TV, he actually liked this show. And before I knew it, he and my mom were both tuning in every week with me to watch the show.

When I was in elementary school …

I remember seeing the cinematic adaptation of Popeye at the movie theater with all of my elementary school friends. I even had the soundtrack (and I can still sing a few of its songs … if prodded).

When I was a tween-ager seeking books for school reports …

He transitioned fully to the big screen where his first big project was The World According to Garp, the first of many books-made-into-movies by John Irving (who would, because of this film, become my favorite author).

When I was a teenager …

He released Moscow on the Hudson, Good Morning, Vietnam, Dead Poets Society and Cadillac Man, all of which I can remember seeing at the theater with friends or on dates with faceless people from my past.

When I met my husband …

I learned he wasn’t a big fan of Mr. Williams. To that point, most of what Dave had been exposed to was merely the actor’s manic, goofball, often-medicinally-fueled, hyperactive, 100mph material. And it just wasn’t his cup of tea. But the actor pulled a fast one on Dave when he released Awakenings and The Fisher King. And Dave was duly impressed. And now paying full attention. Whenever it involved a dramatic role. I get that. Over the years, there were several movies where Mr. Williams played characters who were able to smile or even laugh through their own tears. It was all so real and so humbling that I couldn’t help but cry (and sometimes laugh) right along with him. It was in these roles that he was the most amazing. And most human.

When I was a young adult …

He won his first Oscar. For a little movie called Good Will Hunting. No offense to Matt Damon (who I would later come to love) but Mr. Williams stole the show. And I guess the Academy thought so, too. I believe this scene is my brother’s favorite movie clip of all time.

When I became a mother …

I discovered a whole new collection of titles in his gargantuan body of work. Because he was a dad … and always a bit of a kid himself … he still found plenty of time to be silly. And he was often given carte blanche by his directors to improvise and “be himself” when the cameras were rolling. Thus was born projects like Aladdin, Jumanji, Flubber, Hook and Mrs. Doubtfire. All of these movies came out before my kids were even born and yet they love and have seen them repeatedly in their lifetimes.

What Dreams May Come, Patch Adams, One Hour Photo, Night at the Museum … I could go on and on and on. But I’m guessing I don’t have to. Because judging from all the news feeds of my all too many social media forums, you guys already know what I’m talking about. And clearly you’re feeling it, too.

Farewell, Mr. Williams.

You’ve been making me laugh and cry for as long as I can remember. Like me, the world is reluctant to let you go and will not soon forget you. Thanks for making your life extraordinary. And for seizing the day again and again.

I only wish you had more of them.

Vote for me @ Top Mommy Blogs - Mom Blog Directory

Advertisements

27 responses to “The Robin Williams Post I Needed to Write

  1. the tears keep coming each time i see a video for him, if the laughs aren’t there. What Dreams May Come has been my favorite movie since it came out, and i went looking for it as soon as i knew. my husband had saved a digital copy of it, and when i started to watch it to make sure it’s the right one, i was in tears within 2 minutes. it had hardly gotten to the title sequence, just the opening scene where the first met!

    i think WE are all hit so hard because he was such a prolific actor – he did comedy so well, and made us laugh so much, but also was able to hold our attention when he did drama because, obviously – HE KNEW THE PAIN BEHIND THE LAUGHS ALL TOO WELL.

    he will be sorely missed….

    Great Minds Think Alike.

    NO

    Great Minds Think For Themselves!

    • I really need to see What Dreams May Come again. I only saw it once in the movie theaters but I so remember how I felt afterwards. I’m actually a little embarrassed to go into those details. But, suffice it to say, I need to revisit that film. Soon.

  2. We grew up with this guy. He taught me that goofy and funny was ok. More than ok. Beautifully captured, Michele.

  3. Great post! You stirred up emotions in me that have been dormant for a while – true sadness over the death of a celebrity. Excellent writing !!

  4. Yes. Still haven’t posted. Nothing seems to cover it for me. So, thanks.

  5. What a refreshing post to his honor, I really loved the walk down memory lane. Great post!

  6. I so understand and I appreciate your post. I feel the same way. Thank you for visiting NanaHood.com and for your tender and sweet thoughts about a great man. Teresa

  7. Visiting from Nanahood linky…you had me tearing up with this post, I still can’t believe he’s gone. Beautiful post!

  8. I am exactly the same way; I hardly ever shed a tear over celebrity deaths but I cried like a baby Monday night when I heard the news. I’m in the middle of writing my own post in memory of him. You and I are obviously about the same age and have so many of the same memories when it comes to Robin Williams. He has been making us laugh for a long time and the world will be a sadder place without him.

  9. He was truly unique and amazing! He will definitely be deeply missed!

  10. A great actor who lifted a lott of us up from our sadness. And no one is there to help him on his darkest, saddest hour. #ww

  11. Chris and I saw Good Will Hunting on our first date. He was facinated by the Boston accents. Robin Williams captured it well. I grew up with Mork and Mindy. In my kindergarten school picture, I’m wearing Mork suspenders. He’s always been a favorite in our house. 😦 Great post.

  12. Yes. Quite a man. I reflected on my own depression, as well. http://mymuskoka.blogspot.ca/2014/08/reflections-on-passing-of-robin-williams.html
    Depression is a rough thing.

  13. He was indeed the best. I met him a few years back and he was so genuine. He will be greatly missed!!!

  14. Pingback: 2014 – Best Pictures & Posts (According to Me) | OldDogNewTits

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s