You’re only given one little spark of madness. You musn’t lose it.
Robin Williams 1951-2014
I began to sit down at my computer, eyes full of tears, to try to memorialize a man I’ve never met. Knowing first hand how galling it can be for those bereaved who are left behind after a suicide with their demons and their questions, forced to listen to others pretend they “feel” their pain, I tried to think of what I might say that could adequately and appropriately describe what this man and his comedy meant to me. How he touched my life with necessary laughter after the suicide of my baby brother, during a year when I felt as if the bottom had fallen out of my entire world.
How to convey that I grieve for his loss while understanding in the grand scheme of things his was not my loss.
As I made myself comfortable with my cup of coffee and my pathos…the button popped off my favorite jeans. Not just my favorite jeans, my ONLY non-maternity jeans that still fit my rapidly expanding ass. Something inside me snapped and my watery eyes turned into full blown crocodile tears, no longer for the loss of Robin Williams, but for my jeans and-most importantly of all-my ass.
And then I started to laugh.
24-hour Hotline National Suicide Prevention Helpline: 1-800-273-8255 (1-800-273-TALK)