Robin Williams

Where does one start with thinking about, wondering or loving Robin Williams and the stark fact that he is gone from our planet? In our town it rained the day his death was announced. Tears of sorrow from heaven? Tears to match our own? Religious or atheist, Robin Williams was a man that made awe real in my life.

The genius of him struck me first. He opened his mouth and his mind flew out. Rapidly. Odd phrases at first which then formed solid thoughts. Stream of consciousness is like that; it has reality stamped all over it.

Turned just the right way it is funny. You don’t even have to be drinking a cocktail to find humor in his commentary. It was funny because it was a real reflection on life. Those observations make the hard parts of life tolerable for us.

But each of us has differing points of tolerance of personal pain.

Depression is like that. It hurts. It is at times nonsensical, difficult to explain, seemingly illogical. But it is real just the same.

Robin knew depression. He suffered it his entire life. His early school chums talk now of his shyness. Even current friends tell stories of his shyness. It is a special form of humility. And that lets life in.

Depression is like that, too. It is a special personal vulnerability. At those moments our defenses are thin or nonexistent. That is when life enters inward from outside. And we can commune with it, wonder about it, feel its sharp edges and round nodes.

Painful, of course. Valuable, very much so. Depression is a natural part of life for most of us. Managed well it is an asset that feeds deep thinking and understanding. With the edges sanded down we can see the pain of others and reach out to them to comfort and tweedled back to health.

The gift of Robin Williams is also the gift of knowing something more about depression. It was most likely a deep well of creativity for him. It can be the same for all who suffer depression.

Latest estimates place depression as an active experience for fully one-third of Americans. Is this only in the USA or is it worldwide regardless of geography or culture? I’m sure someone somewhere has studied that question. What are the results?

So depression is natural, at least to some extent. How broad the range of affliction on a personal basis tells the story of boundaries with mental illness. And that raises the specter of  treatment, chemical balances in the body, and a whole raft of other issues to be managed.

It is time that we people accept depression as a reality. It is one of the things that makes us human beings. But depression can run out of control and we must accept the fact as normal that help is needed and should be provided without stigma.

All illness is in some form a gift to the sufferer. It gives insights to life and enriches our experiences. We ought not shun illness, but manage it.

I have a friend who has AIDS. At first it was a horror and scourge in his life. Later he accepted it as a gift because it gave him an enriched life of insight and understanding. Indeed, it proves to be a deep well of inspiration for him.

Controlled or not, any illness including depression, can rob us of the person we need to know.

I weep for Robin Williams, the loss of his presence. But also for his humor. He still brings me uproarious laughter. And that brings tears, too.

August 14, 2014