He was Mork and Popeye. He was the professor Sean Maguire, the teacher John Keating, and the doctor Patch Adams. He was Jack, he was Nanny, he was Genie. We can still hear his voice:
Good morning, Vietnam!
Ten-thousand years will give you such a crick in the neck!
Bangarang!
There was seemingly no role Robin Williams couldn't play. James Lipton, host of Inside the Actors Studio, claims to have counted the number of distinct characters Williams' Genie portrayed in only a three-minute segment of Aladdin. That number?
Fifty-two. Fifty-two!
The range of his work is remarkable. The amount of characters he played, staggering. But Robin Williams was also me. And he was you. There was darkness just beneath the surface of Williams' life. There was pain buried under the spot-on impressions and genius comedic riffs. And we are no different.
Some of us struggle with clinical depression. Some of us are inflicted with this sickness of the brain, which is just as real and harmful as sickness of the heart or the lungs or any other organ.
Some of us have substance abuse problems. Some of us use drugs and alcohol to numb the pain we feel. Some of us use other things.
Some of us have had the desire to take our own lives. Some of us have tried.
All of us live with darkness and pain lurking just below our well-manicured appearances. And yet the Deceiver whispers to us that we're the only ones with a problem. The question is whether we will listen to his outrageous lie, or be vulnerable enough to expose what's beneath our surface.
And how we answer that question is always a matter of life or death.
