I’m struggling today.
There was a man who provided me with a million smiles and a billion laughs. So many moments where I basically broke down in hysterics. He was a brilliant comedian, and now he’s left us…
I’m surprisingly heartbroken, like I’ve lost a friend or someone I knew. Someone who made me feel better when I needed him too.
Some people create the impression that they will live forever, their enigmatic presence transcends time. Robin Williams was such a man. Energetic, funny, a tonic of life. His skill and humour picked me up. No, that’s wrong, it raised me up. He gave me wings and made me soar on the wings of his comedic genius.
I normally don’t get overly emotional about the deaths of celebrities, but this remains a tragedy of which I’m having difficulty comprehending. He remains one of the greats, probably the best of his generation. A person I would have loved to meet. Probably because I would have laughed my ass off during that fictitious dinner. Spewing wine over everyone else attending, as I try to stifle another reaction to an uproarious joke.
Yes, I know, it might have been a job, a public persona, but he executed that job brilliantly. He was the Einstein of comedy. Super talented and simply mind-blowingly funny. I could spend hours watching him whilst falling around cracking up because of his side-splitting antics.
It’s hard to be funny and he made it look easy.
I’m saddened that we’ve lost his wondrous talent of making countless people laugh, shattered that his skill at uplifting a nation couldn’t help in overcoming his own personal sadness. He couldn’t harness that seemingly uplifting spirit in the fight against his own demons. I’m hearing clips of his genius on the radio and I’m faced with a sense of loss, of tragedy, of utter shock. Greatness is flawed.
Robin Williams may you rest in peace. May the airwaves forever scream “Good morning Vietnam”. May Peter Pan have countless happy thoughts and fly forever. May the Blue Genie roam free. May heaven be even more spectacular than the scenes of What dreams may come.
The Birdcage is empty and the therapist of Will Hunting has closed office. So has the one hour photo lab. Mork and Patch Adams has left the building.
But we will never forget our Fisher King, our Mrs Doubtfire.
And we stand on our desks today and salute you, “Oh Captain, My Captain”.