I hate...hate with a great PASSION...writing obituaries. It's tempting sometimes. It's especially tempting when an actor or director who's given you great joy dies.
I wept when John Wayne died—so much so I had to pull over my car as I was driving when the announcement came over the news.
When Stanley Kubrick died, I thought "He can't die! That's impossible! He's Stanley Kubrick!"
But they all die and the works they've left behind live on, the best and most descriptive of tombstones, letting us know that they lived...and should be noticed.
Now, Robin Williams committed suicide. There will be the inevitable voices saying that it was the coward's way out. They will judge and they will condemn. That usually pisses me off when somebody says that. But, not with Williams. If I got pissed off, I'd miss the laughter. And one should always embrace the joy, no matter the circumstances.
And that's how you beat depression.