“OUR JOB IS IMPROVING THE QUALITY OF LIFE NOT JUST DELAYING DEATH.” - PATCH ADAMS IN PATCH ADAMS
There are moments
in life of utter clarity. And then there are the other times.
Death is a common life occurrence; in fact it happens many times a day to
people of all walks of life. People die from old age, sickness, from accidents,
and natural disasters, and some times, too often these days, they die from a
broken heart.
Celebrity deaths
are a strange enigma that many enjoy trying to analyze and pull apart. This
person who’s always been set on such a high pedestal has suddenly succumbed to
something so human. Heaven forbid the
members of that person’s family have some peace to come to terms with what has
happened, they must now be subjected to weeks of endless media torture until
everyone has gotten it out of their system.
Robin Williams
dedicated his life and career to bringing joy and laughter to others. He
married, had children, was an incredibly successful actor, won awards, had
money; all a recipe for happiness right? It has been said that the funniest
people are also the most unhappy; I believe this is often the case.
Laughter is
a life affirming, confidence builder, it is a tool that many fall back on to
build friendships, attitudes, confidence, and even self-worth. The problem with
this is that it’s not building love for one’s self. Laughter can only carry an
individual so far, and at the end of the day when the cameras stop rolling and
the comedian steps out of the limelight, do they feel like they have nothing
else to fall back on?
Depression is
something that can’t be explained; a sorrow that comes from so deep within and
at such a slow pace that you don’t realize it’s there until it owns you. I
remember a cold winter night in 2010, 3am sat upright in my bed, arms curled
around my body sobbing, trying not to wake my roommate. Why? Had I broken up
with a boyfriend? Failed a test? Totaled my car?
No, I was crying because the
blackness inside was consuming me. The truth is, I didn't have a concrete
reason to cry, I only knew that I was sad and suddenly wave after wave of
sorrow came crashing down on me. I knew there was a problem; this wasn't
normal.
Senior year of
high school I spent an entire week in utter silence. I can’t remember how it
happened or why it happened, all I know is that suddenly I just didn't feel
like it anymore. It was like I was no longer in possession of my body and I
just shut down, shuffling quietly through all of life’s tasks. I don’t even
remember thinking of anything in particular; it was like a complete numbing of
my entire body.
But never once
have I contemplated suicide. This is what causes me the most pain in Robin’s
death. No one can comprehend the type of utter sorrow and helplessness he must
have felt in those final hours. That he could bring so much joy to millions of
others, but the one person he couldn't rescue was himself. My heart breaks for
his family, to be left always wondering, “maybe if I’d done x, y, z, he would
have wanted to stay.”
I’m here to tell you that depression is not
logical. It’s not a systematic break down of all the pros and cons of why you
should keep living; it’s a bleak, dark room with no doors and windows. I won’t
patronize you by telling you to not beat yourself up if you've had someone you
love take their own life, because no matter what I say, you have to work
through those feelings on your own. But I will tell you that no matter what you
could have done, depression is not logical. All the love in the world cannot
fix a broken mind. That’s what it is.
A lot of people
assume that depression is because of something in your life that makes you sad
and takes over, but that would in essence follow some scheme of logic. Depression
is a black hole that takes over your body for no reason at all; like walking
into a cobweb hanging from the rafters, you can’t seem to get rid of it all.
And just like in
every other celebrity death, there is that small group of people who instead of
allowing people to grieve for someone who meant something to them, someone who
happened to be a human being, they must berate us on the insensitivities of our
grief over the death of a “celebrity” when “real people” are dying every day.
Soldiers in war,
children starving in Africa, and women being stoned or beheaded in the Middle
East for being raped.
These are tragedies
indeed, but when did the world decide that a celebrity was less human than
anyone else? Someone posted on Facebook today that,
“This tragic loss (of Robin) is not as tragic as those who give their lives to protect this great country”.
I cried.
This person had
expressed poorly what they meant, but the problem was that so many people
really do feel this way. Death is suddenly ranked on a scoreboard. The more
proponents it has, kicks, and flips, and somersaults, the higher our pity
should be. Just a celebrity? Well they knew Hollywood would be hard, so I’m
just going to callous my heart and act as though that person deserves it.
This
mother of three over here whose husband died a year ago has just been diagnosed
with stage 4 terminal cancer; she’s far more deserving of my tears. Every
person deserves to have their life remembered for the good and I’m fighting for
the right to express those feelings.
So thank you
Robin, for creating so much joy in my life, thank you to his wife and children
for sharing him with us; I’m sorry this world couldn’t give him more of what he
needed to feel whole.
“You’re free,
Genie” – Aladdin.
