I think they say that every second, just about two people die. Yet for every one hundred and twenty deaths a minute, the odds that we would be impacted by even one of them is less likely then the chance of being struck by lightning. Unless the death is spectacular, intimate, sensationalist or glamorous, no one really gives a care in the world.

There is no point in coming off as brazenly callous for the sake of spiting readers, but have you ever looked within yourself and noticed the cynicism that plagues the modern man? Whether it’s a coping mechanism, an absurd lack of empathy, or both… unless your next of kin has passed from cancer, the next great monument has blown up or your favorite actor has passed, there isn’t much that gets us to truly feel the gravity of death as it comes and goes more frequently than the number of times we blink our eyes in any given day.

But this past week, Robin Williams was found dead. And for the first time in a long time, the ache was palpable in the air. I’ve lived very little compared to most but I’ve seen my fair share of celebrity deaths fill the airwaves, newsstands and dinner conversations to know how it usually goes.

“Oh that’s so sad. He was a nice man. Let’s pray for his family.”

“So, so horrible. A good reminder to stay away from drugs.”

“It was only a matter of time.”

“She had a successful life. She went out with grace and dignity.”

But for the first time… I didn’t see or hear any of that when Robin Williams died. Sure, maybe people said the above things in their respective circles, but they weren’t any of the sorts of things I heard. All I heard were the denials in my head and the pang felt in my heart. I had never been so moved by the death of someone that I didn’t know any better than the countless artists and icons that died before him. But my mind and heart told me that it wasn’t true. My emotions told me that he was like family, that there was someone I needed to talk to about this tragedy. For hours and hours I didn’t know why it hurt so much.

The pain wasn’t the kind that makes one feel hopeless, nor was I crying helplessly with the bedroom door locked. Everything on my face said that nothing bothered me, but as soon his face popped up in a news feed or a twitter mention, I felt this odd sensation in my soul. I was consciously aware that he wasn’t there anymore in this world. Loss… it’s something that we should feel for every single death that goes by twice every second. But as frail and not nearly omniscient human beings, the knowledge of such tragedy would surely kill us along with all of them.

Then I remembered things about myself. I remembered dark days. Dark personal days that had already begun to turn into repressed memories. Struggles that only my closest of confidants know about… struggles that I will forever keep that way. This article/blog/whatever the hell you want to call it has nothing to do with my struggles as it has to do with how I was inspired to see past some of them.

I distinctly remember being a young college student, lost, arrogant, angry and spiteful at everything that moved and resentful for everything and nothing at the same time. I remember watching Good Will Hunting. I remember Robin Williams taking me by the throat and shoving me against the wall, telling me that I didn’t know a damn thing about life. I remember him telling me I was just “a scared shitless” kid, who never learned to love anything more than I love myself. I remember him telling me to take a chance on that girl even if it didn’t work out because life was too short to go around trying your hardest not to make meaningful connections.

He told me to make something of the best moments of life and stand tall, unafraid of the things that weren’t “my fault.”

Except, he never said any of those things to me. When the credits rolled, it was all smoke and mirrors and beautiful fiction. It was Robin Williams playing a character’s life that wasn’t even based on a true story. It couldn’t be more made up, and at the same time it couldn’t be more true.

I matured, and saw the world as more complex as the years went by, more painful, darker, but all the more beautiful at the same time. Those words of advice didn’t sound like the words of Ben Affleck or Matt Damon’s screenwriting (all respect to them) but Robin’s delivery had unbelievable power behind those words. His talent as an actor seemed to channel who he was through every word that wasn’t his own. He was both fully realized and fully dramatized at the same time. There was a wisdom, a joy and a generosity that showed through his face.

Then like that… dead. Cold, alone. Did the world mean to tell me that the inspiring words and performances meant nothing? Was our perception of him a complete lie? Why were we suddenly all banding together about being sensitive to depression when countless friends of mine had suffered and some died, the same way, but the only time we all came together was because an actor we barely knew passed away? But we did know him. We knew him in the way he allowed us to. No one knows anyone completely and unadulterated. We will never know or love him like his family did. We would never begin to even care a fraction of the amount that his loved ones did for him, but what we were allowed to know and love was a bright beacon of warm light in a dark world. How do I know this? Because there is a cold spot in my chest that hasn’t warmed since the news. It’s ever so slight, and will most likely be overwhelmed by the other present struggles of life… but for three days, it’s been there, and for three more days it might stay.

Did the words that he brought to life on that screen during the painful days save my life? I wouldn’t dare be so melodramatic, but I can say with confidence that they gave me just a little bit more courage, just a little bit more hope, just a little bit more to smile about. And if any of you out there have struggled to the point of fearing the end of your rope… you know that just a little bit more is all you need.

Robin’s performances were a gift to the world that didn’t just show us his talent, but his spirit. Fully dramatized and fully realized…