I think Heath Ledger's death is a tragedy, and I find it very sad, no matter whether his death was a simple accident of sleeping pills, A more complex error of recreation, or suicide.
The more facts come to light, the more I'm inclined to believe the first of those possibilities. And while the word "hope" is an absurd one to use in reference to a young man's death, I do hope that it turns out to be the case.
Because what I do know is that Heath Ledger left behind a two-and-a-half-year-old daughter, who will have to grow up knowing her father is dead. It will be terrible for her to do so knowing he died because of a simple accident. But how much more terrible to grow up with a father who died because he was playing stupid games with his body and mind, just for fun? And how infinitely worse than that to grow up knowing that your father is dead because he decided he'd rather be dead than keep on living?
Heath Ledger's life was not his own. It belongd to a two-and-a-half-year-old girl. If, as I believe and hope, it was lost through a tragic mischance, that's a desperately sad affair, and we can do naught but mourn. But if it was spent on foolish risk, or forfieted through deliberate choice, our sadness must be informed by our knowledge that it was not his togamble with for fun, not his to surrender. It belonged to his daughter.