‘Cause suicide is painless. It brings on many changes. And I can take or leave it if I please.’ J. Mandel, “Suicide is Painless: theme for TV show, MASH.

I wasn’t going to jump on the Robin Williams’ bandwagon but then I figured, why not? Like millions of other people, I felt as though I knew the man. I saw him first as Mork, the lovely, whimsical alien. Then, over the years there were his many wonderful movies: Mrs Doubtfire; Dead Poets Society;  Good Will Hunting; Jumanji; Hook; Bi-Centennial Man; Good Morning Vietnam; Patch Adams; Aladdin and The Birdcage. And they’re just the ones I’ve seen.

Then there were his numerous appearances on television, many of which you can re-watch on YouTube. I particularly loved an episode of “Whose Line Is It Anyway?”. I laughed so hard I had tears spurting out of my eyes. And, of course, there were his Adults Only stand-up routines. I only saw one once on late night television (he used even more colourful language than Billy Connolly) but, apart from the blue language haze, it was riotously manic and face-achingly brilliant.

Somehow, because of all the joy he brought to the world, this makes his struggle with depression all the more tragic. We can’t believe that someone who took such delight in the world and in people, would succumb to this illness. Why would he do it? How could he do it? More importantly, what could we have done to prevent it?

Suicide isn’t painless. Oh, the mode of death might be painless for the victim, but for those who are left behind it’s a painful, hideous nightmare. My brother-in-law committed suicide many years ago. Even I, his much younger sister-in-law living half the country away from him, was plagued with the constant thought of, “What could I have done to stop this?” His wife, my sister, had three little kids under five years of age and her fourth due in a couple of months time. It took her years to come to terms with what happened. It had a lasting effect on her poor, sweet, confused children, including the one not yet born. I think it’s one of the hardest deaths to deal with because of the horrendous, “if onlys”. So, I pray for Mr Williams’s wife and children and extended family who will be in pain for a long time to come.

Could he have chosen to live? Maybe. That’s as close to a definitive answer that anyone can give. I’ve experienced bouts of depression (nowhere near as deep or profound as Mr Williams) but there was only once that I seriously considered suicide. It was the memory of my brother-in-law’s death and the effect on his family, that stopped me. At the time I, too, had young children and I didn’t want to put them through that. I’m glad I stayed. Things gradually got better.

Depression is like living in a deep, dark hole. If it’s not too deep you can eventually pull yourself back out. The deeper the hole, the more difficult it is. You need a ladder in your back pocket. You need a friend with a ladder at the top of the hole. You need the strength to look up.

Because the world is full of deep, dark holes, everyone should carry a spare ladder (love, joy and hope are its rungs) just in case. I look forward to the day when as much research is put into curing mental illness, including depression, as it is into cancer. I’ve got a vested interest in both those illnesses. Meanwhile, goodbye Mr Robin Williams. Thank you for the wonderful, hilarious, poignant, delightful memories.