Introduction:
More than two years after the death of Robin Gibb, the distinctive voice of the Bee Gees, time seems to have paused inside the vast 13th-century manor he once shared with his wife, Dwina, in Thame, Oxfordshire. Robin died at 62, following kidney failure after a long and courageous battle with cancer, yet his presence remains deeply woven into the fabric of the house—and into Dwina’s daily life.
The walls are still lined with silver-framed photographs capturing Robin beside his brothers: Maurice, his twin, who died in 2003; Andy, the youngest, lost in 1988; and Barry, the sole surviving Bee Gee. Alongside oil paintings hang rows of gold and silver records, silent witnesses to a career that sold more than 200 million albums worldwide. The sitting room, with its heavy timber beams, holds a full suit of armor and a bust of Winston Churchill, one of Robin’s great heroes. Nothing has been moved. Nothing erased.
“There’s no need to change a thing,” Dwina says quietly. For her, removing photographs would mean removing love itself. After Robin’s death, she immersed herself in memories—watching old videos, listening to his music, holding on to every trace of the man who filled the house with wit, warmth, and creative fire. Nights were the hardest. Robin often worked into the early hours, composing at the piano or shaping melodies on the keyboard, while Dwina listened from bed. When the music stopped, the silence felt immense.
That silence was broken by new life. Fourteen months after Robin’s passing, the birth of his grandson, Maxwell-Robin Gibb, brought light back into the once-somber rooms. The family celebrated Maxwell’s first birthday on July 16, and Dwina speaks of him as a blessing. Grief, she reflects, can consume everything—until a child arrives and demands joy, attention, and hope. In Maxwell, she sees echoes of Robin: small gestures, acute hearing, familiar expressions that feel like gentle reminders of what remains.
Creativity has also helped Dwina heal. An artist and writer, she returned to her work by completing her first play, Last Confessions of a Scallywag, a farce inspired by family memories and Robin’s own love of comedy. Writing became cathartic, a way to process loss while honoring the humor and madness that defined life with a true creative force. The play is currently running in Berkshire and will have its first reading in New York later this year, with more projects already underway.
Dwina speaks candidly about the complexities of her marriage to Robin, including the freedoms and challenges that came with loving a creative genius. Despite difficulties and public revelations, she insists that devotion and mutual understanding were always at the heart of their bond. Born on the same day, three years apart, they shared a rare connection—one rooted in loyalty, acceptance, and deep affection.
Robin’s legacy continues through his children and his music. A forthcoming album of his final songs, compiled by his son RJ, includes the last demo Robin ever recorded—a poignant, unfinished piece that moved him to tears as he wrote it. For Dwina, these songs ensure that Robin Gibb never truly left. His voice, his spirit, and his music endure—filling the house, and the world, once more.