Robbed

Dear Robin,

You were probably the brightest star in our generation’s galaxy, a supernova always shining somewhere in the sky. You were perhaps the only man in the cosmos who could make the good Lord giggle.

Today I was walking around in a state of shock. I felt close to you, and loved you as much as I could any man I hadn’t personally met.

My very image of reality is shaken like a photo taken from a train. Sure, stories of depression, alcohol and cocaine abuse, rehab and 12 Step groups, that’s almost normal for a celebrity. But actually choosing to end it all? With all you had inside you? That’s just heartbreaking.

And it leaves me to wonder: With a mind that could out-ricochet a bullet in a mine shaft, were all your frantically-snapping synapses mere devices to divert your attention from a bleak inner abyss?

It’s as sad as it’s scary. What other demons lurk beneath the surface of any public figure? Or in people I personally know? Or in me?

What agonies are we hiding from each other in plain site?

We live – I live attempting to enjoy the everyday ups and downs of life, and I have had so many joys I’m writing a book to celebrate. But sometimes the veil lifts, and I am suddenly naked and hollow before a relentless, bitter wind that in too short a time blows us all away.

The truth is, it’s hard just to be alive sometimes, especially if you keep yourself awake through the process. It’s scary and it hurts, and Robin, it seems you just couldn’t take it anymore.

I’m simply disheartened today. Hurt that you would choose to end yourself.

Robin, on Monday you robbed us of you, but only after having given us so much. You were like the one friend who could always cheer us up. For this we remain so grateful, and so sorry that in the end, we couldn’t do the same for you.