I walked into the office yesterday to a picture of Robin Williams with the headline reading, 'Robin Williams Dead at 63.' I couldn't process. I didn't process. I didn't understand how monumentally my world had changed in a matter of moments. I sat there for an hour trying to understand why I suddenly felt numb, a numbness brought on by the death of someone I had never met. I didn't know Robin Williams personally; I wasn't a family friend or a colleague. I was a fan. Never had I experienced the death of someone who had so profoundly influenced my life. I was numb. I didn't understand.
I spent the next hour trying to understand this feeling. I trolled through the twittersphere, reading the reactions from people who knew him. Millions of 140 character posts about Robin Williams the man, colleague, and friend. I came across from a tweet from Evan Rachel Wood and I finally understood what was happening. A picture and three small words had made it heartbreakingly clear what I, on a personal level, had lost with this man's passing...
...my childhood.
Growing up I was an only child; a 9-year old, painfully shy, girl muddling through her parents divorce. I made it through with a genie, an alien, a teacher, a boy who wouldn't grow up, a cross-dressing housekeeper, and a friend.
So with all do respect to the older and younger generations, you're not going to get it. You're not going to get why I'm mourning a man I've never met. You're not going to get why I feel as though my world will never be the same, and it won't. There wasn't a memory from my childhood, and there are very few to begin with, that didn't involve Robin Williams. I dragged 20 of my friends to see Jumanji for my 8th birthday. An elderly Scottish women got me through my parents divorce. And a big blue genie taught me that I could be anything I wanted to be, even royalty.
So my dear friend, I wish you peace and thank you for all the laughs. I owe you one.
