When Robin Williams died, I was devastated. I loved watching his standup and I loved the parts he played. His death was unexpected and hit very close to home. It was the first time I realized that depression can be a fatal disease.
Oh of course I have heard of depressed people taking their own lives but I never really thought about it. Robin was different. Maybe it was because he always seemed so happy on the outside. Maybe it was because his insights into the world were so deep, accurate and yet humorous that I thought that he had a handle on it.
I think it was the shock of realizing that someone I thought understood ...... I thought he was better at seeing ....
Words are hard to find here.
I believed he saw life for the joke it was. I never expected.
Leonard Nimoy's passing was a different experience for me. He was old, he had lived a full life. Don't get me wrong, I was sad at the loss. But similar to Desmond Llewelyn, Nimoy had a chance to say farewell on screen. When the scene ended, in my heart he had moved on.
The very recent passing of Terry Pratchett leaves me not knowing how I feel. We all knew it was coming. After his diagnosis of Alzheimer's, he often went on record stating his intention not to allow his family to suffer though the later stages of the decease. We knew that every book published after they could very well be his last.
I think we all expected him to reach a point where he could not write anymore, where we would all walk those last few days by his side, supporting him and his family before he left us.
I never expected this, suddenness.
I always thought I would have more time to prepare.
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