O Captain! My Captain!

It’s OK to mourn for Robin Williams, though we never really knew him

For the first time in my life, I cried over the loss of a celebrity.

I’ve of course known of people who left us — people like Amy Winehouse, Michael Jackson and Elizabeth Taylor were on my radar when they passed away. But this is the first time I find myself actually mourning the passing of someone I’ve never met.

I’m speaking, of course, of Robin Williams.

The first movie I saw in theaters was Aladdin. My first favorite character was the Genie. Flubber delighted me, and Dead Poet’s Society inspired me. For having never met the man, I feel like I’ve known him my whole life.

It seems odd, speaking from my head and not my heart, that we should actively mourn the loss of an entertainer. Robin Williams didn’t help end apartheid like Nelson Mandela. He didn’t define a whole genre of poetry like Maya Angelou. And yet, here I am, tearing up as I type this. I didn’t even know him, and he certainly didn’t know I existed.

And yet, like so many peers, I have been hit hard with his death. I could wax poetic about the way it brings life and its fragility into sharp relief or discuss the fact that sometimes the funniest people are the saddest, but these things have already been said.

The only thing I haven’t heard is that it’s okay. It’s okay to mourn someone you never knew. It’s okay to cry over the loss of a man who brightened so many lives. It’s okay to feel like you knew someone you’ve never met.

Death is hard on the living. Each time we lose someone, we’re reminded that we’ll eventually lose someone else. We’re faced with the uncertainty of life and our own mortality. To put it bluntly, death is terrifying. And that’s why it’s okay to react like this. Sure, we may not be grieving like Williams’ family is right now, but it’s okay that we’re grieving.

It’s normal.

After all, we’ve each lost someone. We can’t take lightly the impact Williams had on this earth, even if it isn’t obvious. He gave us all so many gifts of laughter that he became a household name. He cheered us up. He showed us the bright side of life. We live in a world that can get very dark. With headlines of beheadings and shootings, it’s easy to forget that there is light in the world too. Williams’ work helped us see the silver lining. It’s something each of us needs a little help with every now and then. Williams may not have known us all, but he was a part of our lives.

It is fitting that one of the resounding phrases being uttered in remembrance is “O captain, my captain,” a line from a poem that Williams’ character in Dead Poet’s Society quotes. There is a history behind this poem that’s neglected in the film.

Walt Whitman wrote “O Captain! My Captain!” after the assassination of Abraham Lincoln.

The poem is mourning the loss of Lincoln — the Captain. Whitman, to my knowledge, never met Lincoln but still was profoundly affected by his death. There is a beautiful irony that so many of us who had never met Williams rose to our feet upon hearing of his death and whispered “O captain, my captain.”

I end this column with the opening lines of Whitman’s poem, as he says it so much better than I can:

“O Captain! My Captain! our

fearful trip is done,

The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won,

The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,

While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and

daring;  …”