It has been a week since I read about Robin Williams’ death.
A week ago, I was sitting at my desk, in a relatively unpopulated office (myself and 2 others) that was fairly quiet, but we were busy.
I had taken a moment to break from the busy-ness and check Facebook out.
And there it was, Robin Williams dead of apparent suicide.
I exclaimed (I didn’t really think people did that, but hey! I did it…) out loud and fairly suddenly… “HOLY FUCK ROBIN WILLIAMS DIED”
My co-workers looked at me in disbelief.
I then reached for my phone to call my husband. We were both big fans and I knew he’d be devastated to hear the news, if he hadn’t already.
Wait. Back up. I can’t call him. He DIED 2 years ago.
I didn’t expect the wave of grief over a celebrity’s death. No matter how popular, how talented, how beloved… it was sad news, but not something that should have triggered a wave of grief.
But it was there. Because I wanted to tell Mark about Robin Williams. Because, even after 2 years… once in a while for a split second, I forget that he died. And it’s like losing him all over again.
A friend of mine, another widow, signed off of facebook for the day – it was too hard for her to see the news pop up in her feed all day. I tried to stay online. I tried to let go. I was, for a brief period of time, grateful that I was out of cell range and couldn’t see my Facebook timeline. Because then I didn’t have to read about Robin Williams’ death. I didn’t have to feel bad. I didn’t have to remember for that tiny moment how I reached out to call my husband.
I hope that Mark and Robin are somewhere out in the cosmos, having coffee, laughing, and telling each other jokes. Mark had the best laugh. The best smile. He had this one crooked tooth… he hated it. But I loved it because it was part of his smile. So I hope that they are enjoying a good laugh…. loving their wives from beyond… remembering the good times and the love and laughter we shared.
I know I do.