The "Mrs. Doubtfire" memorial on Sunday, August 17, 2014.
In the week since the world lost Robin Williams, I’ve seen many touching tributes. At the house in San Francisco where “Mrs. Doubtfire” was filmed, so many flowers and signs covered the walk that the (very understanding) homeowners haven’t been able to use their front steps. The phrase "Bangarang, Peter", a reference to the movie "Hook," was written on the sidewalk in big chalk letters. People all over the world are talking about what he meant to them – as a friend, as a comedic inspiration, or just as an entertainer they enjoyed. Fans are pulling out his movies and stand-up specials to relive the memories, and laughing until they cry. I think that’s how Robin would want to be remembered: through gales of laughter and joy.
However.
It’s also brought out a side of people that is everything from unpleasant – those who talk about how life is precious and they can’t understand or respect someone who would take their own – to downright despicable, as evidenced by the harassment heaped upon Zelda Williams in the days following her father’s death.
Of course, it was because of the one word that kept appearing everywhere: suicide. He didn’t just die, he committed suicide. He chose to end his life. “How could he?” people asked. “How could he do that to his family? How selfish of him. Didn’t he care about them at all?” And I read this and said, “Don’t you understand? He was sick! He wasn’t just having a bad day! It’s called mental ILLNESS for a reason! Yes, there is help, but just like with most illnesses, people respond differently to different treatments, and unfortunately, sometimes treatments don’t work and people lose their battles in the end.”
Then came the announcement that Robin had been diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease. “Oh, well, that’s different,” people said. “The disease would have robbed him of his voice, his control, his livelihood. It was more than he could take.” And I read this and said, “Oh, so now it’s OK? Now you’re sympathetic? A shift in factors and you change your tune?”
And this, ladies and gentlemen, brings me to my mother.
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