So when I was sitting on my love seat last night and heard about the death of the beloved Robin Williams, like everyone else, my jaw dropped open and I almost ran off to Snopes to find out if it was true...but mostly an overwhelming sense of melancholy washed over me because of the cause of death. Suicide. I hate that word. I also hate the phrase "committed suicide." It's so cold. It sounds so harsh. I don't know if "took his own life" sounds any better, but at least it's less clinical. People expressed shock about his untimely death and I suppose that's understandable in a way, but if you are familiar with suicide and have lived through the death of an immediate family member, you know that depression can completely change a person's life view in a matter of months. It changes their personality and their physical appearance, their mannerisms and their routine. It affects their level of patience, their former passions, their every relationship. It may not be completely transparent to the public, but the signs are there. And sometimes there's nothing we can do to recognize how serious the situation is until it's too late.
The other day I was home alone with Liam. He went down for a nap and I decided to relax watching some old home movies. (In addition to writing and being empathetic, I am also extremely nostalgic and sensitive). These particular movies are silent because they were filmed with my parents' Super 8 camera prior to their mega Camcorder purchase in 1986. I watched my first day of kindergarten...blonde curls and blue crocheted dress with little brown Mary Janes and a white button-up cardigan. Care Bears lunchbox. And then I watched Ryan's 2nd birthday party, in September of that same year (1984). I watched my Uncle Billy come up the hill with my Aunt Margaret. He was a young 30-year-old, even younger than I am now. Sporting faded but surprisingly designer-looking blue jeans and a long-sleeved v-neck shirt. Young and happy as could be with his hot blonde (who had a Farrah Fawcett haircut, I might add!) Looking at them, tears glistened in my eyes because I did the math. In 25 years, he would take his own life. Would you ever have guessed it had you been in that moment? Would I ever guessed it--my four-and-a-half year old self running around the front yard in that video without a care in the world? No. I wouldn't have. Even in the months before his death (and I was 30 when he died), I honestly didn't think he had it in him, even after hearing that he had been experiencing depression. I pride myself on being empathetic but I didn't even notice it was that bad that he thought it was the only alternative. I fell on the couch when my mom called to deliver the news. I was pregnant and alone and thought I might explode with sadness...I had just spoken to him the day before on my birthday; how could this have happened? But looking back, there were signs. Even when I had talked to him on the phone the day before (he called! he did care and remember despite all of his inner demons), I know he knew it was the last time we would ever speak. It chokes me up to even write that now. But I know he was at peace with his decison, as Robin probably was with his. While we will never be able to understand with our rational minds, it is an illness and it is important that people are aware of the signs and of how to get their loved one help.
I heard some unsophisticated caller on the radio this morning stating that Robin must not have "given a shit" about his three children to do this to them. I was practically shaking with anger at that statement because it is so FALSE. So unFAIR. Of course he did. He just could not see any other way out. Imagine being that depressed and paralyzed that you choose death over your own children. THAT is how serious depression is. Be aware and reach out...help in whatever way you can.
Every year my family and I do the "Out of the Darkness" walk in October (there are plenty around the country, but this one is in Bristol, CT). All donations go towards research and education programs to prevent suicide and save lives, because suicide is more prevalent than you think: Suicide claims more than 38,000 lives each year in the United States alone, with someone dying by suicide every 13.7 minutes. A suicide attempt is made every minute of every day, resulting in nearly one million attempts made annually.
Let Robin Williams' death have just one silver lining: awareness. If you see someone struggling, be empathetic. Don't judge. Take the time out of your busy day to reach out and listen. It only takes a few minutes or hours but may make a difference. I know that there's nothing that I could have done to save my uncle, but I take comfort in the fact that I was there for him every time he called me that fall and winter. I cheerfully told him all about the events going on in my life and tried to make jokes and make him feel like his "real" self again. I am sure I wasn't completely successful every time, but I know in my heart that he knew I loved him and that I was trying to make a difference. Let's all take care of each other. Life is too short to do anything else.