While I didn’t know Hoffman personally, I once saw him at The Standard hotel on Sunset boulevard waiting for his car. My friend whispered, “There’s your guy,” and we instantly made eye contact. I gasped, put my hand on my heart and said, “I love him,” in a voice presumably loud enough for Hoffman to hear. He stared at me with a sweet expression, giving me a look that seemed to imply his consent to my approach. But I was frozen. We stared at each other for one more moment, and then Hoffman drove off into the distance.
It’s important to remember how Hoffman lived and not how he died. And if we do talk about how he died, I can only hope that addiction will become a part of that dialogue, and those in need of help will seek it out. There are many free resources for addicts, so please CLICK HERE if you’re looking for a meeting. Goodbye Philip Seymour Hoffman. May you rest in peace.