A Eulogy for Robin

There isn't much that can be said that hasn't already been said. But that doesn't mean it doesn't bear repeating.

Today, we lost a great man. Like many of you, I was shocked to hear the news. I wanted to know why someone who brought me so much joy would suddenly extinguish his own life. I was even a little bit angry. But, when it comes right down to it, I have no right to be. I never knew Robin Williams personally and can never know the motives behind his decision. I do know what people tell me: That he battled addictions and depression all his life. Fortunately, I have the luxury of knowing neither of these conditions.

Having never suffered the demons that Williams battled with, I cannot hope to ever truly define him as a man. No eulogy I could ever write would ever be an honest and full depiction of Robin Williams. All I have to go on are those brief moments in which he shined through the screen and met me halfway, inviting me into the life of a man who filled every role he ever took with the life and passion of a thousand ordinary men. I can write about the first time I ever watched Good Will Hunting (my favorite movie of all time) and cried like a fucking baby when Williams, playing Matt Damon's therapist, repeated those four little words, "It's not your fault." I can talk about growing up with a VHS copy of Aladdin and laughing hysterically at the Genie, voiced by Williams, as he sang "Friend Like Me" or laughing hysterically at a loving father who, in an attempt to be near his children, dresses up like a female nanny....or laughing hysterically at every single Robin Williams appearance on The Late Late Show with Craig Ferguson with whom he had such great and lively chemistry.

I can even proudly say that, after watching Dead Poets Society for the very first time this summer, Robin Williams' rousing role as an unconventional professor of English brought my love of literature and writing back to life. Obviously, you could say that many of the scenes I've referred to above were written and scripted by other people and that Robin Williams was merely reading the words off a page. But that's where Williams' true talent came to the forefront. His talent for ripping words off the page and turning them into brilliantly funny, and often beautiful, performances that warmed the heart.

Strange as it may seem right now, Williams' greatest gift was his ability to bring energy and life to the world. And though he may have ended his own, I know that his vibrant soul remains in every single person that ever had the pleasure to watch him, know him, and meet him. He was infectious and I never met a single soul that didn't glow at the mention of his name and his movies.

It is both difficult and awkward to write a eulogy for a man I never met. But I would be remiss if I did not pour my heart out for a man that, in no small part, shaped who I am today, if only through the medium of my television.

I imagine, being a comedian, that Williams would be disappointed in his fans for sending him away in tears. He would have much rather preferred that we smiled, laughed, and remembered the good times. Unfortunately, not being a scholar on the subject of Robin Williams, I do not have a substantial record of his thoughts on death. What I do have is an episode of Louie wherein Williams and Louis attend the funeral of a mutual "friend." Later, at a diner, they both confess their mutual hatred for the man and laugh about how big a piece of shit he was. Recounting how he used to always pester them about attending his favorite strip club, they both decide to honor him by going themselves. When the strippers hear about the death of their friend and frequent patron, they all cry and a sad 80s ballad is played over the loudspeaker in his honor. Afterwards, a scene cuts to Williams and Louis exiting the club and, after looking at each other for a beat, they burst into a fit of laughter. As they're saying their goodbyes, Williams says to Louis: "Hey, would you do me a favor..."

 Louis knowingly nods and says, "Oh, I'll go to yours."

Williams smiles and adds, "Whoever dies first."

They laugh once again and part ways.