Introduction:
My first memories of being alive, my first conscious memory that I have a picture of, is Spring Valley in the aisle of Man. Thirteen years have passed since the world said goodbye to Robin Gibb, the voice behind some of music’s most unforgettable songs. His death in 2012 left fans grieving — but also left behind questions that were never fully answered. Rumours of secret romances, hidden battles, and a side of Robin few ever saw lingered. For decades, the family remained silent, allowing the music to speak. But today his children have finally spoken out, confirming the gossip that wouldn’t disappear — and telling all about the man behind the myth.
Robin Hugh Gibb was born on 22 December 1949 at the Jane Crookall Maternity Home in Douglas, Isle of Man. 
In their youth, the Gibbs were adventurous and mischievous: pranks, small fires, and restless energy were all part of their childhood. But behind the chaos lay an unmistakable creative spark. By 1955 they had formed their first group, The Rattlesnakes, performing in Manchester area halls, Barry on guitar, Robin and Maurice on vocals. When two members left the group, the brothers reshaped themselves into Wee Johnny Hayes and the Blue Cats. Soon after, in 1958, the entire family moved to Redcliffe in Queensland, Australia—a new beginning that would transform their lives. In Australia they reformed yet again, this time under the name The Bee Gees (allegedly derived from “Brothers Gibb”).
Robin’s signature vibrato-laden voice stood out. By the mid-1960s the Bee Gees were recording hits under Festival Records; when Robin sang lead on “I Don’t Think It’s Funny” in 1965, his emotional depth belied his years. The haunting tone became a defining sound of a generation.
Yet, alongside professional triumph, his personal life was filled with passion, drama and heartbreak. In 1968, at the height of the Bee Gees’ early fame, Robin married Molly Hullis, a secretary for their manager. Their romance began with hope, survived the Hither Green rail crash in which dozens were killed, and seemed set for success. They had two children. But fame and distance took their toll: Robin’s work often kept him in the U.S., Molly remained in the U.K., and by 1980 their marriage had ended in divorce. In 1983 Robin even served a 14-day sentence for defying a court ruling by speaking publicly about their marriage. (His personal life, it seemed, was as volatile as his voice was unforgettable.)
Robin remarried in 1985 to Dwina Murphy, an Irish-born artist and author, and fathered his third son, Robin-John “R.J.” Gibb. The couple divided their time between Miami, Florida; the Isle of Man; and the historic Prebendal in Oxfordshire. But the union too was not free from press scrutiny: in his 50s, Robin fathered a daughter with 25-year-old housekeeper Clare Yang, a scandal-making revelation. Still, those close to Robin maintained that he loved all his children, and attempted to preserve harmony despite the headlines.
In addition to music, Robin embraced politics and philanthropy—he supported the Labour Party, was civilly engaged, and served as president of the Heritage Foundation. Throughout all the ups and downs—success, love, heartbreak, scandal—Robin remained a soulful dreamer whose music spoke louder than any gossip ever could.
Robin faced another dramatic chapter in his final years: the diagnosis of colon cancer in 2011, which later spread to his liver. While weakened by surgery and chemotherapy, his creative spirit remained undimmed—he worked on the symphonic piece Titanic Requiem with his son R.J., composed to mark the hundredth anniversary of the Titanic disaster. He even began humming and writing from a hospital bed. On May 20, 2012, aged 62, Robin died in his London home, hand held by Dwina, calm, smiling and confident that life was simply one step in a greater journey. 
But the story did not end there: the Gibb family gradually revealed the man behind the legend. Dwina spoke openly about their marriage’s unconventional nature; R.J. shared intimate memories of his father’s final moments and late-night studio sessions. These revealed a man flawed yet loving, private yet candid, an artist bound by melody and heart. Though Robin’s voice may be silent, his legacy lives on—not just through hit records, but through a family’s love, a lifetime of creativity, and the belief that hope is greater than death.