The Marin County Sheriff's Department said in a statement that Williams was found unconscious and not breathing in his home around noon. The statement said the investigation into Williams' death is ongoing, but the coroner "suspects the death to be a suicide due to asphyxia."
I was out in my garden trying to combat spider mites on my plants.
How surreal. I was in the garden this afternoon, checking under my watermelon leaves when a blue dragonfly flitted in front and landed on the bamboo stake I had planted in the tomatoes. I took a picture, as I always do, my favorite dragonflies are the crimson shaded and of course the blues, as they always remind me of sapphires. It is often thought that butterflies are the symbol of change, especially spiritually. I hate butterflies. They mean something far darker, more sinister, but that's another story. I have always likened the change in me the way a dragonfly changes. I noticed how the light was reflected on it's wings and I tried to capture it The first photo has not been color enhanced. That is simply what I shot, straight from the lens. I thought they looked like cathedral windows. As I came inside and uploaded them onto my computer, I saw Damon"s post about Robin Williams, and I then thought of every movie he ever played in and what would be a good tribute. I remembered Patch Adams, when he challenges God. He then sees a butterfly which reminds him of Carin's telling him earlier how she always wished she was a caterpillar that could someday transform itself and fly away.
So sad. For we have truly all been there, so more deeply than others. I can remember how many times I would post the picture of Jenny from Forrest Gump, every time I was overwhelmed to the point of "wishing I could be a bird, and fly, far, far away"
He wasn't able to escape the darkness this time around. So, so very heartbreaking.
Fly high, dragonfly...fly high.
~sighs~ I told myself not to look, I really didn't want to. But I had to, and there it was...The Trident once again
Such a tangled weave of tapestry. . Robin Williams used to work at the Trident restaurant back in the 60's.
T o some people the "what's the best daytime view restaurant in Sausalito?" debate comes down to Trident for "nice weather and/or casual" or Spinnaker for "chilly weather and/or formal." The beautiful white exterior of the building dates back to the 19th century, when it was a yacht club. In the 1960's the old Trident Restaurant was owned by the Kingston Trio, and it has been a long-time destination for musicians recording at local studios like The Record Plant. Janis Joplin had her own table here (at the far right on the window as you face the Bay, and the Stones were feted here by Bill Graham after a concert in 1974. A teen-aged Robin Williams worked here as a busboy in the late 1960's.I must say, this is one time I wish I were wrong. :( I hope that this time it truly is a coincidence.
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!
The 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.
~1865 by Walt Whitman, about the death of American president Abraham Lincoln.
Quoted in the movie: Dead Poets Society