RIP Robin Williams

I watched Hook during the summer, but it was cut halfway (because my copy was crap). I promised myself to watch it again, to complete it one day. I promised myself I’ll get my hands on a copy of Dead Poet’s Society one day. I promised myself I’d rewatch all my favorites. One of them was RV.

I wasn’t just keeping that promise to myself, though. I promised it to the film makers who made them, to the actors who made them come to life. I promised that I’ll appreciate their hard work, their special ideologies. I promise it when they were not listening – nonetheless, it was a promise I wanted to keep.

Today, a few months after making that promise, my chance to fulfill that promise was snatched away from me. And now I just feel… empty.

It’s like we gave each other a “See you later!” and it turned out to be the last time we’d be meeting. It’s like Steve Rogers’ “rain check” that never happened. Just a few days ago, I wrote in another essay, “I have been telling myself that I do not have all the time in the universe, especially with them.” I knew. I knew I didn’t have forever with them, but I was so willing to give these little infinities. I never thought my small infinity with Robin Williams would end so soon.

I told myself I am no longer afraid I am not living. I am now afraid I am not living enough. So I do what I can, with the best that I have” but because of this small tragedy, I feel like I have failed. I was not able to tell him how much he has made me smile as a child, or how he has kept me company. I was not able to bow down in front of him and tell him just how good of an actor he is. The thought that “if I did that, would I have been able to save him?” runs through my brain.

Today, a simple news article about an insignificant celebrant’s death terrified me to the bones. It scares me to wonder, “Who will be next?”

I have been so used to fictional deaths – from books, movies, and shows – that I had thought that I am now immune to being saddened over deaths in reality. I was wrong.

Today, a simple “#RIPRobinWilliams” made me abruptly stop my casual day-to-day-living, and realize that… I really do not have enough time with the people I love, respect, adore, admire, and aspire to become.

I had hoped to meet Robin Williams when I get into the film industry. I had imagined his signature warm smile – one that I’ve seen constantly in Hook and RV, with his teeth slightly show and eyes twinkling with wonder – as I gripped his large, strong hand. I had hoped to hear him say, “I’ve heard so much about you.” I had hoped to hear him laugh in real life. I had hoped to listen in to him telling his experience in shooting Jumanji and Night at the Museum.

None of it matters now, because none of it will ever happen.

Today, not only were my eyes open to the sad reality of our human mortality, but my hopes and promises were also shattered into dust – dust that was easily blown away by time and easily scattered by the fact that he would not hear me.

It both scares and amazes me how he and I had this one small similarity, and how someone as insignificant as I in his life (and he in mine) could affect me this much. Perhaps it is because of that particular similarity. The irony of the situation tastes bitter. Yet, I welcome it. It’s better than the pang of pain that comes along with the thought that, “he made one decision. Then, it was done.”

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