I first heard about Robin Williams’ death while I was standing in line at my mother’s viewing and a friend’s BlackBerry dinged with the news alert from CNN.

It was a surreal, if brief, moment. Not to be insensitive, but while I always liked Mindy’s Mork and all the other incarnations of this gifted actor, the death of a stranger was exponentially less important than my personal grief. Still, when I heard it was a suicide, my fleeting first thought was that my mother had fought so valiantly to cling to something Williams had just thrown away.

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