"We all loved him!"

I'm not sure how many people will see this post, nor do I necessarily care. Robin Williams took his own life a few days ago. Everyone is an expert on Robin Williams' depression and suicide, and every living being in North America is very generous with their expositions on their personal expertise.

I've been depressed. I've been suicidal. I know my battle with depression, but I don't know Robin's depression. That's probably because I don't know Robin. I loved every time I saw him act. I loved every character he played. I never loved him. I didn't know him; how could I possibly say that I had any kind of relationship with him?

I've acted on a small stage in the lovely little town of Didsbury, Alberta. Even that little bit of public exposure has, at times, set me up for public scrutiny. (Oh, it's a lovely thing in a small town!) I've had people tell me they love me and I've had less than loving remarks from others; people who haven't seen me dance in the rain, become surly with PMS, or smirk with sheer delight at British humour. They haven't watched me stroke a grandchild's face nor have they greeted my bleary-eyed, pre-coffee creature. They don't know me. How can they say they actually love me?

They loved the characters I played, and I loved doing it! I'm so glad they were entertained. It was a privilege to make them smile, say, "Awww" even when I found the scene insanely sappy, and cry over the death of a person that never existed. They felt all of these emotions because the performance we offered touched their hearts. It was truly beautiful. The audience loved the characters.

I will be clear. Those characters were just characters. This was made very clear by two incidences. One was a "not so thought through" statement by someone who clearly thought I was less than worthy of her friendship. She said ever so sincerely, "Well, now you don't have to be Twyla. Now you can be Ma Graham." No thanks. I loved Ma Graham, but she's not me. Parts of me went into her, but she was not me. The more beautiful response came when I was able to perform in a play that depicted one of Janette Oke's books, When Calls the Heart. She reminded us at the cast party, "Remember; I created these characters... God created you." She encouraged us to be all that God had created us to be, not finding our confidence in the characters we played, but in our relationship with our Creator.

I loved the characters Robin played. His friends and family loved him. Yes, because of Robin's crazy improv ability, generous portions of Robin were poured into our hearts. Really, though, only his family and friends can say they loved him.