12 August 2014

Rest in Peace, Robin.

This is a sad day for me. Probably because I, too, struggle with depression lately. I don't have the words.

I guess that's not quite true. I do consider myself literate and I am a  Magister de Artibus. But in times of great emotion, I lose them. I have only cried over "celebrities" or people that I do not know personally three times.

The first was Pope John Paul II. It was like I had lost my grandfather all over again. The second was when Gary Gygax died. Now admittedly, I had corresponded with Gary for about 12 years before he died, but I never met him in the flesh. And now, Robin.

I really don't have the words. He always seemed so full of energy but there was always a sadness behind those eyes. The Fisher King will remain my favorite movie of his. Well, I guess I'll let Whitman speak for me, although everyone else is today as well. It is appropriate and it is how I feel.

Rest in peace, Robin.





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:

But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
O Captain! My Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills;
For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding;
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;

Here captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head;
It is some dream that on the deck,
You've fallen cold and dead.
My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;
The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;
From fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won;

Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!
But I, with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
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