That's all I can come with. It's like a sore in my mouth, that kinda twinges and I'm compelled to touch my tongue to it to see if it's still there and that's when it hurts. Forgive me if I sound melodramatic, I mean, I never knew the man, right? And people have much bigger tragedies, much bigger struggles that are real to life. Here I am grappling with the death of a man who didn't know I existed. But when I remember that he's dead, and more so that he chose to be that way, it's like thrusting my tongue against a canker - it hits me all over again.
Suicide is terrifying. And disturbing. I told my kids why I was crying - that Robin Williams had died - and Jack asked how? I said he was sick and left it at that. Naive. He googled him the next day and read the truth. I can't even imagine how scary and lonely and desperate someone must feel to get to that point. I wanted my kids to be too young to know about that.
I don't even know the point of this post. It's taken me twenty minutes two write those two paragraphs; neither a complete thought and one having little to do with the other. But writing helps me process things, my thoughts and my emotions and so I hoped plucking away something here would help me step forward.
This tribute helps too... in his voice, though not his words. From one of my favourite movies, Jack. Quite hauntingly appropriate now, and quite the challenge.
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