Many took to Twitter to share memories, laughs and lessons from Joan Rivers, who died Thursday at age 81.
It is with great sadness that I announce the death of my mother. She passed peacefully at 1:17 p.m. surrounded by family and close friends. My son and I would like to thank the doctors, nurses, and staff of Mount Sinai Hospital for the amazing care they provided for my mother. Cooper and I have found ourselves humbled by the outpouring of love, support, and prayers we have received from around the world. They have been heard and appreciated. My mother's greatest joy in life was to make people laugh. Although that is difficult to do right now, I know her final wish would be that we return to laughing soon.
Rivers was unapologetically blunt, and her commentary, while acerbic, would have people in tears from laughing. She taught that while you probably shouldn't say exactly what's on your mind all the time, being bold enough to say what needs to be said can produce a big payoff.
From the very beginning of her career, Rivers learned to laugh at her circumstances and the world around her in order to cope with difficult situations. Through every joke—about herself or about the multitude of celebrities she gave advice to—she showed us that a little laughter can sometimes go a long way in making situations more bearable.
Although Rivers may have used her finances to get that key made, she showed us that with enough asset—monetary or otherwise—we can do anything. Sometimes the true key to happiness is finding the determination to make it ourselves.
Love her or hate her, Rivers had style and she wasn't afraid to use it. It was a sense of flair coupled with confidence that often set her apart from others, and one we could replicate more often.
It was Rivers who said, "I've had so much plastic surgery, when I die they will donate my body to Tupperware." With an unflinching ability to shift her commentary inwards, Rivers showed that sometimes the best joke is just a little self-deprecating.
RIP, Joan Rivers. May you get the funeral you always hoped for.