Gone.
My brain is still shorting at this idea. I’m gobsmacked and devastated. How is it possible? And yet, I know, quite intimately, just how it is possible. Because those demons he was fighting? I know them well. And this post, well, I’m not sure I could say it better. He was incandescent, truly and just so brilliant and honest whether he was making me laugh or cry. Rest in peace, beautiful one. Thank you so much for shining your light on us.
Excuse me now, sniff, while I go carpe this diem.
No more deaths of incandescent geniuses this year please. There aren’t that many to go around.
— Steve Silberman (@stevesilberman) August 11, 2014
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.
-Walt Whitman
hapa, nyumbani 
I still can’t believe how much his death has touched me! Thanks for your post, I never realized how the poem fits him.
Yes. I was completely unprepared to even consider a world without Robin Williams. The poem seemed more than an apt description of this moment. Oh, but he was such a bright light!