This week, I think my generation suffered its first real loss. That’s not to say that the mourning is restricted to the millennials, but I do believe that his death has been the first real instance of my generation being old enough to actually understand and mourn the death of someone who was so integral to so many of our childhoods.
Personally, I’ve been thinking of Aladdin, humming “you ain’t never had a friend like me,” under my breath, for more than a day now. When I heard the news, I was sitting in a parking lot watching the clouds drift by. My friend Sara had tweeted about it, but I didn’t want to believe it. Part of me still doesn’t. It didn’t really hit me until last night, just as the clock was about to strike midnight, that he’s gone. He’s never going to say anything again. His family will never hug him again. His fans will get a few movies that have yet to come out but then that’s it. He’s never gonna be on another show doing his special brand of comedy.
But that doesn’t mean we’re gonna forget him. The utter shock at his death is evidence enough of that. He touched millions of lives with his comedy and his acting. His memory will live on likely longer than most of us on earth as I write this will.
Rest in peace, Robin Williams. I’m so terribly sorry that you lost your battle with mental illness. I sincerely hope that there is an afterlife of some kind, and I know that if there is, you’ve been welcomed with open arms and thunderous applause.