24/10/2025
When Robin Williams passed away on August 11, 2014, the world was left in stunned silence—but two weeks later, at the Primetime Emmy Awards, his dearest friend Billy Crystal offered one of the most moving and heartfelt tributes ever delivered on television. With a voice thick with emotion, Billy said, “He made us laugh. Hard. Every time you saw him—on television, in movies, nightclubs, arenas, hospitals, homeless shelters, for our troops overseas, and even in a dying child’s living room—he made us laugh. Big time.” Their friendship began in the late 1970s, long before fame and its pressures took hold. Robin was rising to stardom with Mork & Mindy, while Billy had just wrapped Soap. They met at a New York benefit and spoke for an hour straight. “We didn’t know each other,” Billy later told Rolling Stone, “but it felt like we’d been friends forever. He was electric. I couldn’t stop laughing, and neither could he.” From that moment on, they were inseparable—calling each other constantly, often leaving delightfully absurd voicemails. “He’d call pretending to be a Russian tailor or an IRS agent,” Billy remembered. “I saved many of them. Those messages got me through the darkest nights.” Their bond radiated most brightly during Comic Relief, the charity they co-founded with Whoopi Goldberg, raising over $70 million for the homeless. Yet what audiences cherished most were those spontaneous moments of pure joy—Billy trying to keep a straight face as Robin whirled around him as a flamboyant Russian ballet instructor, or Whoopi laughing until tears streamed down her face. But beneath the laughter lay deep pain. “He came to my house one night and just needed to talk,” Billy shared. “He looked lost. We sat in my backyard for hours. He opened up about everything—his fears, his loneliness, the noise in his head.” When Robin’s health began to decline due to Lewy body dementia, Billy didn’t fully grasp the depth of his friend’s suffering. “He didn’t sound like himself,” he confided to Vanity Fair. “I thought it was just a rough patch. I didn’t know he was in that much pain.” At the Emmys, bathed in the gentle glow of remembrance, Billy’s voice faltered as he said, “It’s hard to talk about him in the past tense. For almost forty years, he was the brightest star in the comedy universe.” A clip of Robin’s stand-up followed—his radiant, unstoppable smile lighting up the screen—and the audience rose in silent tribute, many in tears. Afterward, Billy quietly reflected, “It wasn’t a performance. It was a love letter.” Their friendship was truly rare—rooted in laughter, honesty, and a profound, enduring love. As Billy once said, “He was the greatest friend you could ever imagine—fierce, loyal, and full of joy. I’ll miss him every day for the rest of my life.”
