By now you know. By now I hope you’d have wondered about the irony. I’m not saying it was prophetic or anything. I’m just saying. I hate it when people are “just saying” but it’s had my mind ticking this morning.
Why is it that a legacy is suddenly and exponentially magnified when you die? Robin Williams was just good, ol’ Robin Williams till he died. Tragically I might add. No end to life is less than tragic. Now though, people will take a moment and marvel where they perhaps should have been doing that all along. All life deserves marveling.
I first encountered Robin in a classroom. Much like the classroom he was in, in Dead Poet’s Society. Quoting Walt Whitman as he went:
Oh me! Oh life! of the questions of these recurring,
Of the endless trains of the faithless, of cities fill’d with the foolish,
Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I, and who more faithless?)
Of eyes that vainly crave the light, of the objects mean, of the struggle ever renew’d,
Of the poor results of all, of the plodding and sordid crowds I see around me,
Of the empty and useless years of the rest, with the rest me intertwined,
The question, O me! so sad, recurring—What good amid these, O me, O life?
That you are here—that life exists and identity,
That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse.
We never expect to wake up and hear of someone’s passing – it’s inevitable, for each of us at different times, and somehow it catches us by surprise every time.
Williams contributed an extraordinary verse, the play goes on, and he does not. What will your verse be?
You have my word 
Leave a comment