Finding time for grief

I finally have time to sit here, alone in my house, and cry.

Robins Williams … gone.

I’m not even sure what I am crying for; that there won’t be a Mrs. Doubtfire II?  That they cancelled The Crazy Ones?

I didn’t know the man.  I didn’t even actively seek out his work.  My favorite RW movies were Fisher King and Hook.  Hook is an all time favorite of all movies.  The Fisher King was just such an amazingly unique, touching, heart rending film that one viewing in the theatre was all it took to leave a lasting impression on my heart.

Maybe that’s why I’m crying.  Because there will be no more moments like those because that particular Light is gone out of the world.

Maybe I’m crying because I didn’t do my part in letting him know he made a difference in my life, that I love his work, and probably by extension, him.  I always feel I should have made that clear.

I didn’t cry yesterday.  It was a mixture of shock, and family.  Dinner to cook, kid stuff, motorcycle ride with the husband … and just shock.

This one, this death, this suicide by Robin Williams – this will stay with me as I enter into the world of counseling.  This will be what keeps me present, keeps me authentic and genuine.  Suicide can be prevented.  Chronic, intense, crippling depression can be fought and defeated.  We have to be real with one another, we have to pay attention even when we’d rather be planning the next days activities, or thinking about vacation, or what the next episode of our favorite TV show will bring.  We must sit with one another, together, aware of the others as we are of ourselves.  That’s where empathy happens.

Then we have to take risks.  The proverbial leap of faith.  When we ask, we need to be able to handle the answer.  When we are asked, we need to know the other will hear us, will understand.  When we reach out, we need to know that no matter what is going on, we can grab the other’s hand.

We all have far more strength than we know.

We can free ourselves of demons right here.  We just have to know we are heard, and be willing to hear.

Rest in peace, you clown, you teacher, you child, you madman, you troubled soul.

Your memory will always be for a blessing.

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One thought on “Finding time for grief”

  1. I felt the same way last night — shocked, stunned, unbelieving that this light in the world could be gone so suddenly. I wish he had appreciated everything he was to so many and that it would have made a difference in his decision to end his life. Today I grieve for a man so deep in despair that he couldn’t go on. I wish I could have saved him from that end.

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