Celebrity Deaths

"Oh, there you are, Peter!"

I feel terrible that this is what I’m posting about after such a long absence. I moved to BG, we finally got internet, and then this terrible news sweeps my newsfeed.

I wouldn’t have expected the death of Robin Williams to hit me so hard. I was at Grounds for Thought with a few friends when I heard the news. In the middle of the walk home, I burst into tears, and it took me a good hour to finally stop crying. But even now, as I sit cradling a cup of tea in front of my laptop, I feel an unmistakable heaviness in my chest, as if my heart is slowly becoming stone.

I’ve never understood why people scoff at the widespread heartbreak that come with the death of beloved celebrities. Most of it* seems to be the idea that if you don’t personally know someone, then you have no business sharing in the grief that should only be exclusive to their friends and family. I do understand where they’re coming from, but what I think these people are missing is that celebrities touch each and every one of us with their work.

I grew up with Robin Williams. He was in movies that became staples of my childhood; Aladdin, Mrs. Doubtfire, Hook (oh, especially Hook), and so many others. His death was the snuffing out of the magic that helped shape me and so many of my generation. On a more personal note, his manner of death struck a chord in me as someone who constantly battles depression. Someone who filled so many hearts with laughter and warmth fell to that consuming psychological venom. Now cracks a noble heart.

I didn’t know Robin Williams personally. I didn’t know his friends or his family. But he and so many other actors, writers, musicians, philosophers, and other celebrities have touched my heart more than many people in my life. I will wear my grief on my sleeve no matter how ridiculous people think it is, and everyone should. Kurt Cobain’s suicide broke the hearts of an entire generation. John Lennon’s death shook the world. Those who scoff at the pain we as a nation are feeling right now don’t understand that artists shape us without ever having to know us. They shape our childhoods, inspire our own art, change our culture. It’s only natural that we mourn them. Their deaths are true tragedies.

Robin, you will always be Pan to me. Thank you for bringing me so much joy in my childhood and inspiring me in my adult life. Your life and your work meant so much to all of us. Rest in peace.

*I’m not including the people who joke about deaths. I understand that some people use humour as a coping mechanism, but most often the people I see joking about celebrity deaths are nothing but callous, pathetic attention seekers. They can all fuck off.