This letter accompanies this episode of TBE TV, which is a special tribute edition to Robin Williams.
I wanted to say thank you – and goodbye.
I doubt you will remember me but we did meet once and I was fortunate enough to work alongside you. Throughout my life you never failed to make me laugh and throughout the most impressionable period of my life you were an inspiration for me. You made me laugh and you made me cry. None more so than now did you make me cry. But this isn’t about me.
I tried to write this to you yesterday, on the day I heard about your death – but I couldn’t. So I went for a walk with my dogs; something which forces time to myself and allows quiet reflection. As I was walking through the fields, I felt slightly removed. Removed from the world which my dogs were enjoying; running around chasing each other, darting in and out of the river, splashing and having fun. Removed from society a bit, I guess. I’m feeling removed from fun – from life. As I walk through the beautiful Northamptonshire countryside in England, which I’m so fortunate enough to live in, the sun is slowly fading behind the trees. The fields are a beautiful lush green and the trees are a myriad of different colours of green. The stillness is palpable. There is a natural beauty to my surroundings, in every sense of the word, and the isolation from the rush of everyday life; from people and machines, is both refreshing and enrapturing. The gentle breeze rustles the leaves of the trees.
And I’m feeling removed as I think of you and your tragic death. Tragic for you and for your family – and for me and millions of others around the world.
In itself that feeling of being removed from that moment in which my dogs are enjoying so intently, as I look on, and feeling removed from everyone else’s lives; from life, is an insight into what it’s like to