For today's prompt, I want to write about
the famous American actor Robin Williams.
The One that Got Away
Lisa-Anna Maust
I never knew the man, but I witnessed the persona. Hook, Jumanji, Mrs. Doutbfire, Dead Poet's Society. A shadow mugging at the screen, trying to be heard.
I never touched the man, but I experienced his happiness. A smile, a laugh, a strange caricatured voice. His happiness was a warm remedy growing within my innate sorrow. Or should I say "is," for he lives on in his films.
I never spoke to the man, but I wish I had. Would I have had any words to say? Probably not, but he would have filled my mouth with some.
Today I'm supposed to be writing about "The One that Got Away," but I can't get Robin Williams's shocking death out of my mind. Maybe if I knew him, the countless articles, broadcasts, and Tweets wouldn't have been such a shock. But I didn't know him.
Yet, my mind wants to make sense of his final moments. This death means someone's a widow, another's fatherless. For me, it means that life isn't forever, and that I'm getting older. Heroes can die and be forgotten the following day. Death is powerful enough to blow out magic.
I bet the last souls on Robin Williams' mind were his wife and daughter, but I would be naive to think he didn't think about his other family. His fans. The lovers of his persona, a persona that masked the raw pain swimming through his veins.
I bet he wondered, like so many before him, "Who will be missed? The man, or the shadow?" As he gave into the darkness, he must've come to the realization that death was better than life. That sleep was preferred to pain, and that mystery triumphs over reality. What drives a person there?
Depression is a black plague that nests in the heart. It clouds the mind and soul until all that's left is a cast. The only sound--the monotonous echo of a slowing heartbeat. He probably watched one of his old films before he took his life. With hopeless eyes he stared back at his Other. An opposite both in appearance and sentiment. I bet he hated what he saw.
In that darkness he felt completely alone. His life was full of crowds and cameras, but now, his focus was on his heavy breathing and a barren room. I wonder if one person could have saved him? If one person could have held him in his or her arms for dear life--and simultaneously given him life.
I didn't know Robin Williams, but through his death I can understand him, and in that understanding, know him just a little bit. I didn't know him, but I know how he spent his final moments. Because we do share that one thing in common. We're both human. So I'll let my mind create a story--if Mr. Williams is willing to be the protagonist.
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