Sometimes, I hate being a blogger. I hate feeling like I have to write something immediately when someone dies, so that my readers can have access.

Robin Williams’s death at the age of 63 feels oddly personal to me, perhaps because I’ve spent my entire life enjoying his work in films.

I shouldn’t need to run down his body of work. He’s Robin freaking Williams. If you don’t know who he is, you’ve been living under a rock. I’ve seen 35 of his films, and they’ve largely defined how I see films today.

Hook, for what its worth, is one of my favorite films of all time. It’s one of those movies that I pop in when I’m feeling down, and need a pick me up. A lot of people turn their noses up at Hook, but I absolutely love it. Today, I lost my happy thought.

Williams was an actor. He could do the funny slapstick as well as he could do the intense serious work. He proved himself early on with Good Morning Vietnam, and continued to redefine himself with Dead Poets Society, Good Will Hunting, One Hour Photo, and Insomnia among others. Even though Hollywood had largely abandoned him as a bankable actor, Williams continued to turn in great performances in small films like World’s Greatest Dad.

I kept hoping Williams’s career would turn around, which is why I blasted The Angriest Man In Brooklyn a week ago. It was beneath him, and beneath his talent. He deserved better.

He’s publicly been battling depression for years, as well as his addiction to alcohol and drugs.

My thoughts and prayers go out to his family. I know people say this a lot, and they want to mean it, but it becomes more of a formality. Today, I mean it in the deepest sense possible. When I read “Robin Williams Commits Suicide”, I felt a deep blow to my gut, like I’d lost a part of me, or someone close to me. I realized that it was knowing that Williams never got the comeback he so rightly deserved, and never got a second chance to show everyone how incredibly talented we all knew he could be.

Through his work, I felt like I knew Robin. Like we all knew Robin. Somehow, if we ever met him, he’d chat with us about the good old days, even though there weren’t any memories between us. I feel like I lost a friend today, even though we’d never spoken or met.

I think that feeling speaks volumes about how deeply his work transcended the screen, and how his legacy will remain always. I will show my kids Hook, and Aladdin, and Mrs Doubtfire. When they’re ready, they can watch Dead Poets Society, and Good Will Hunting. They’ll come to know the Robin Williams I knew.

Bangarang, Mr Williams. Bangarang.