Remembering Robin Williams

If you saw Robin Williams perform even once, you remembered him. He made an instantaneous impression. One movie, one television appearance, a few brief minutes of stand-up comedy - that's all that it would take to brand a vivid and indelible image of his genius into your consciousness. His talent was boundless, and the potent singularity of his persona was unforgettable.

We remember Robin Williams for his wit, first and foremost, but it was the speed of his thoughts and their delivery that set him apart. The jokes and gags and voices and gestures and cultural references would fly out of his mouth at a thousand miles an hour. Yet, every transition was logical. Every fleeting comedic reference led seamlessly into another mind-bending explosion of lateral thinking. The jokes were funny, but the experience of having them race past you, one after another after another from a seemingly inexhaustible source, was even more enjoyable than the humor itself.

We remember Robin Williams, the brilliant performer. We remember his astounding versatility. It was remarkable how effortlessly he could transition from a hyperactive comic to an award-winning dramatic actor. His role in Good Will Hunting was so perfect and so poignant and so human. The Oscar for Best Supporting Actor was well deserved.

We remember Robin Williams, the consummate professional, who entertained us, so many of us, decade after decade, with the same vigor and enthusiasm that filled his first moments on television with such magic. 

And now, sadly, we must remember another Robin Williams, a fragile, sensitive man who lost his battle with profound depression.

There is no rational explanation for depression. It afflicts its victims no matter what else is happening in their lives. No degree out outward success can offset the overwhelming inner torment of depression or the fear of having that torment discovered.

Robin Williams enjoyed a storybook show business career. For decades, he contributed to one high quality project after another. Despite various personal struggles, there was never a period where he disappeared, where we were left to wonder, "Whatever happened to Robin Williams?" He never stopped working. His movies were critically acclaimed and grossed billions of dollars worldwide. His performances were consistently memorable and always entertaining.

I don't know the details, but one can assume that Mr. Williams financial success during his career. He certainly earned the adulation of millions of fans.

And yet, in the end, it was the disease that won. A man who enjoyed more outward success than any entertainer could hope to accomplish, who lived his dream fully and openly and successfully for years and years, who garnered the respect of peers and critics and the adulation of fans, who was recognized and quoted and adored worldwide, took his own life when his lone, dark, quiet struggle with hopelessness became too much to bear.

Let's remember that last part very carefully. A person can have everything and feel that they deserve nothing. Remember also that while depression is rampant, the victims don't talk about it.

Can we resolve to be gentle to any person that we meet - friends, peers, neighbors, strangers, and especially family members? We'll never know who among us is carrying a secret, heavy burden, a burden so dark and wretched and overwhelming that they might choose to leave all of the good of the world behind just to be free of its weight.

Be kind. Be patient. Be understanding to everyone, to every last human soul. If someone near us is struggling with feelings of hopelessness or despair, let's please not learn about it the hard way. 

Copyright © 2014 Daniel R. South 

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