It's one week later, and I'm still processing the passing of Robin Williams. The seemingly endless anecdotes extolling how giving and kind he was exemplifies the kind of person I strive to be in my daily life. My love of who he is and what he meant to me growing up has been rekindled.
I went to school with his first son Zachary, who is 7 years my junior. The memory that sticks out most in my mind was trailing behind them on my way up the stairs one morning. He was holding his young son's hand as they traversed each step. It's not so much the act as it was the feeling of tenderness in their wake that I felt. Perhaps that is why we mourn him as a collective, because on some elemental level, it seems so unfathomable that such a gentle, gifted spirit could meet such a violent, lonely ending. My greatest hope is that more meaningful dialogue about depression comes out of this tragedy, that we become more equipped to care for each other when we recognize each another's void.
The boy in this picture, who was initially evoked by my memory of Zachary, is actually another dear soul who passed away only a few days before Robin in an unfortunate accident. He's the 9 year old nephew of a friend of mine. He had seen my work and was inspired to send me this adorable text message that featured the above quote. Now it seems strangely profound. Robin also happened to love video games, so much so that he named his daughter Zelda. The fact that this young boy would want to reach out to me and connect over something creative made me so happy. Now that he's gone, I wonder where all that potential and vitality goes in the universe.
So in that spirit, I wanted Robin and this boy to meet, to continue their path in peace, stardust and all. May their co-op games reign eternal and be saved in the ultimate Cloud, where nothing is lost, only loved and played.