It breaks my heart that you’ll never read letter. The fact that you’re gone is really why I’m writing this to you. I first loved you as Mork. You were free and child like, vulnerable, innocent , naive and simplicity was your rational. You loved openly and found freedom in wild, abandoned, unbridled joy. That is everything that a neurological disorder takes away. It isn’t fair. It’s crushing and devestatingly cruel. I’m so sorry you got Parkinson’s disease. I’m sorry I got Dystonia. I’m so sorry that my dad got Parkinson’s and Lewy Body Dementia and very sorry that it happened to the both of you when we didn’t understand that you had it until you both respectably, died.

In you I saw a multi faceted gem of light that bounced it’s prisms across the surfaces of consciousness. You were like the manifestation of dreams made real. Watching you was like watching a rainbow form and come into full vibrant hues. It was beautiful, glorious and truly magnificent. To watch it as it transcends it’s space in the sky just takes ones breath away.  But sadly, every rainbow fades and disappears into the atmosphere, leaving us to wonder, why can’t it have stayed a little while longer? 

Why couldn’t you have stayed a little while longer? 

And the reason why you left, is the reason why I stay. I don’t know what that reason is, except that it took you and it keeps me here. Neurological disorders are like stealth bombers that attack when you least expect it. They leave you shell shocked and ripped open inside. Gasping for air, hoping for relief, praying for comfort and wrenching from pain. everyone wants it to stop. Everyone wants to conquer it. Everyone wishes it had never happened to them. Everyone wants their old life back. Everyone hopes for a better outcome. Something better than what happened to you. 

So every time I see your face, with the twinkling blue eyes that were always balancing between sadness, empathy and love, They remind why its pivotal for me to stay on this side of the grass and not surcomb the ravages of illness or let it take me away before its time. 

You needed to stay here a while longer Robin. But because you didn’t, for me,  it is the most impactful act of all the things you did. You see, I’ll make sure I never let Dystonia take me the way I believe Parkinson’s took you. 

You’re leaving reminds me exactly why it is that I should stay. 

And that is why you’re the celebrity, whose life affected mine more than any other. I’m just so sorry that had to be you.