On Monday, August 11, 2014, I was sitting watching my children play. Suddenly, I received a message from a very dear friend. And then another one, and then a news alert. And they were truly unbelievable and tragic news. Robin Williams had passed away.

Before you begin to comment that this is just another case of a Hollywood star with a list of addictions that she could not handle, allow me to share a small story with you that I had not told anyone—not my husband, not my best friend, not my parents, not my sister, not anyone. Because it is a very precious story to me. But now the time has come.

After my husband Greg committed suicide, I embarked on several trips across the United States, scattering his ashes in the places he had requested and trying to piece my life and my soul back together in the best way I could. I spent considerable time traveling from Los Angeles to Oakland, as I was living in West Hollywood but contemplating the possibility of moving, and I also visited my best friend at least once a month. After September 11, it was not always easy to get a Tupperware container with your late husband's ashes through security. One afternoon at Los Angeles Airport, I had a heated argument with a very arrogant security agent, who threatened me, saying that I had to dispose of the ashes or otherwise I would not be able to board my flight. I was hysterical, crying. However, eventually another officer arrived, recognized my husband's death certificate, and let me through.

I arrived crying at the airport bar, clutching my small container. I sat in a corner facing a wall and continued crying and sobbing, hysterical, while having a whiskey to try to get through the ordeal. At that moment, I felt a hand on my shoulder. A very soft voice said to me: "Ma'am, I just want to make sure you are okay. I see you are traveling alone, I saw what happened, and I really want to know if you are all right."

Through my tears, I could recognize his voice, but I could not believe that it really was Robin Williams who was at the same airport as me and took a moment to check if I was all right. I kept crying and, as I tried to catch my breath, I told him a summary of what had happened at the airport and what had happened with my husband. His eyes became a little teary and his voice grew softer. He said: "Addiction is a real piece of st. Mental health issues and depression are the mother of all st. I am deeply sorry for all the pain your husband had to go through. I am deeply sorry for the pain you are going through now. But I think you have family, friends, and a lot of love. And that makes things a little better, doesn't it?" He accompanied me to the boarding gate, because he had the same flight as me.

He was a noble soul. He made us laugh and he made us cry. He made us feel through his work. He was honest about the demons that tormented him. He was honest in speaking about his mistakes and his flaws. He was suffering.

Mental health issues and depression are the mother of all s**t. How right he was.

He was always there for veterans, for soldiers, for children in hospitals, for his friends and family, and even for a hysterical stranger at the airport. And what I have not yet shared with you is that, as we walked to the boarding gate, he made me laugh by imitating the people passing by. Laughing at the airport security agents, especially the one who had put me through the ordeal. But in a funny way, not disrespectful (even though that agent deserved it). He told me I had a great laugh and a beautiful smile. As we said goodbye, he hugged me with his famous hairy arms. He gave me a huge, warm hug. That moment saved me and sustained me; it is a moment I think about all the time. He held me during one of the most difficult moments of my life.

He was as good as he was funny. His death is terribly tragic. That someone who brought so much light and joy to the lives of others felt so much darkness within.

Rest in peace, Mr. Williams. May you find the peace you did not find here and may you continue to make the angels laugh.

Thank you for being there for me that day. You were the angel I needed. And I know you spoke from experience: I deeply appreciate that.

That Monday, that news was very difficult for me to hear. And it remains difficult to process to this day.

Por Kate Lyon Osher. Original version: https://themighty.com/2016/12/robin-williams-comforts-woman-at-lax-after-husbands-suicide/