“It’s really a reflection of our age that so many stars — the good ones — that we know are dying, whether of illness or actual old age.” – Becca
It didn’t hit me until she said it, but that was how I felt when I heard that Robin Gibb, who was one-third of the galactically talented Bee Gees, had gone to be with his twin brother, Maurice. As the sweetly familiar strains of the Bee Gees’ music filled the office after the news of his passing broke yesterday morning, it was the most bittersweet moment I’ve had in a long time.
From as early on in my life as I can remember, music has always been a part of my life, and one very clear memory of how it started is my grandfather (my mother’s father) playing cassettes of old music by the likes of Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Connie Francis, and the Bee Gees. So to hear of Robin’s death was particularly sad for me, because it took me back to the time when my grandfather taught me to sing these songs, to the point where the music of this golden era was all I knew until I was about 12 years old.
So this is in memory of the Bee Gees, and my grandfather, both of whom so firmly believed that such music was the only kind worth listening to because it carried a special meaning and a lesson in every word.
Be in peace, Robin. Your words and your music were all you needed to take our hearts away, and the lights may have gone out in Massachusetts, but they will shine on in your legacy forever.