Honoring Billy: a Support Fund for the Robinson Family

Dear friends, family, and kind-hearted strangers,

On July 29, 2025, Billy Robinson passed away at just 41 after a brave fight with glioblastoma. Billy was a devoted husband to Melissa and an incredible dad to their two children, Becca and Lucas. His family was his whole world—every early morning and long day was for them.

This fund was originally created to support Billy’s fight, but now it will help his family navigate life without him.

Contributions will go toward final expenses and, most importantly, providing stability for Becca and Lucas as they grow up without their dad.

Losing Billy so young has left a hole in the lives of everyone who loved him. Melissa and the kids now face the future without the man who filled their home with laughter, love, and security. Your generosity will help ensure that Becca and Lucas have the opportunities and support Billy dreamed for them, even in his absence.

From the bottom of our hearts, thank you for helping to carry this family through the hardest chapter of their lives.

---- Read More About Their Journey --

Billy’s transformation began quietly in the spring and summer of 2024, a shift that was subtle but undeniable. At first, we chalked it up to the normal weight of turning forty—a mix of reflection, stress, and grief. That year had dealt him more than his fair share of heartache. He celebrated his 40th birthday in March but also mourned the loss of two of his closest friends, both taken by cancer, and his beloved dog of fifteen years. Grief felt like it was closing in from every direction.

The doctors didn’t see anything wrong at first. His labs and routine tests were clear. We assumed his quiet withdrawal, his distant gaze, were signs of depression after so much loss. But by August, during a family visit to my home in Vermont, it was clear something deeper was happening. Billy wasn’t himself. His mood fluctuated between moments of radiant, almost frantic elation that felt a little too bright, followed by deep, haunting silences where the light in his eyes went out and his presence felt distant, hollow.

Then came the headaches. Then hiccups that wouldn’t stop. And finally, a revelation that would change everything: at their daughter’s field hockey game, Billy mentioned he’d taken a hard hit to the head during his last roller hockey game. That, combined with the relentless headaches, sent them straight to the ER.

A CT scan was ordered. At first, they suspected a brain bleed. But what they found was far worse: a tumor. A sizable one, lodged deep in his brain. Within hours, Billy was transferred by ambulance to a specialist hospital. The diagnosis came swiftly and brutally—high-grade glioma, aggressive and unrelenting.

On September 3, 2024 Billy underwent a marathon ten-hour brain surgery. The doctors were able to remove 95% of the tumor. We clung to that small victory. But complications followed. The surgery left Billy's left side weakened and uncoordinated.

And yet—he fought.

It’s been nearly a year since that terrifying night in the ER. Since then, Billy has fought with a quiet, relentless strength that humbles all of us—relearning how to walk, how to hold a cup, how to brush his teeth. He has made incredible progress. His six weeks of chemotherapy and radiation came and went with minimal side effects. He no longer needed a wheelchair or cane. And in December, Billy, Melissa, and their two kids, Becca (16) and Lucas (13), returned to Vermont, fulfilling Billy’s wish to have both sets of grandparents together for Christmas, surrounded by the beauty and quiet of the mountains.

Billy and Melissa gradually fell into a new rhythm, a fragile sense of normalcy that almost felt like hope. With each stable scan, they dared to believe the worst was behind them. Billy even returned to work on a limited basis. But in March 2025, that fragile peace shattered. A routine bi-monthly scan revealed the tumor had grown, pulling them abruptly back into the harsh reality they had tried so hard to outrun.

Billy was sent to Pittsburgh for another brain surgery in early April. Once again, he braved the operating room, facing the risks and uncertainties with his quiet determination.

Through all of this, my sister has been by his side every step of the way. She’s been traveling back and forth to visit him in the rehab center, managing their home, and taking time away from work to care for him and their family. Right now, they’re facing not only the emotional weight of this journey but also the crushing financial burden that comes with it.