This morning, I did something I’ve never done before: I cried for an actor.
I’m not one to follow celebrity gossip or obsess over the lives of Hollywood stars. I’m not even one who’s overly excited to get autographs from the stars who’ve played my favourite television and movie characters. And unlike a friend of mine, I don’t have a list of the young and famous that I pray regularly for (though perhaps, more of us should). But this morning, while eating breakfast, I found myself crying and I didn’t know why. I prayed about it, and realized, I was grieving.
The news of Robin William’s death by suicide last night crashed through the internet like a storm. For many of us, though we didn’t ever meet him or talk to him, he held a special place in our hearts. In his roles as John Keating (Dead Poets Society), Mrs. Doubtfire, the Genie (Aladdin), Hunter Patch Adams (Patch Adams), and many more, Williams didn’t just steal the show; he stole our hearts. He gravitated towards roles that called out our hearts’ desire for love and beauty and passion and joy and acceptance.