As we begin a new year, we wanted to take the time to reflect on those brilliant creators we lost in 2025. Authors, performers, innovators, entrepreneurs, activists, and beyond, each of these remarkable people left an indelible impact on us as individuals and on the world as a whole.
Andrew Pyper
March 29, 1968 – January 3, 2025
Andrew Pyper was the author of the wildly popular Oracle series. Andrew asked his dear friend Craig Davidson to help him craft Oracle 3: Murder at the Grandview after receiving a cancer diagnosis early in the project. According to Davidson, "My last communications with Andrew were emails and texts. His responses were brief, bearing traces of exhaustion and heavy medication. When I suggested he watch the films of Hayao Miyazaki—which seemed the sort of films I’d watch at that point—he wrote: 'I love Miyazaki. A breath of meadow and cold white wine comes to mind.' What would you give for another afternoon with someone you care for, and in what way would you wish it to transpire?" —Yvonne Durant
David Lynch
January 20, 1946 – January 15, 2025
I was mesmerized the first time I watched David Lynch’s cult-classic horror-drama whodunit Twin Peaks. At 18 years old, I had never seen anything like it, bizarre as it is beautiful. Over a decade later, I still haven’t. Dreamy, dark, and inventive, Lynch’s art was strange and surreal, but it never lost touch with its humanity. His oeuvre—from The Elephant Man to Mulholland Drive to Dune—demonstrated time and again his unique lens on the world, making him one of the most influential creators in film history. For teaching us all to keep our eyes on the doughnut, not the hole, and for ensuring the world forever remains wild at heart and weird on top—thank you, Mr. Lynch. May there be a damn fine cup of coffee waiting for you on the other side. —Alanna McAuliffe
Marianne Faithfull
December 29, 1946 – January 30, 2025
One of the best singers of all time, Marianne Faithfull was described by Rolling Stone as an artist “who transcended ‘it girl’ status in the Sixties with a stunning second act as a singer-songwriter of earned hard wisdom.” I loved how weathered and cracked her voice was as she performed her romantic poems. She's an artist who inscribed her name into the history of rock & roll like no other. —Jerry Portwood
George Foreman
January 10, 1949 – March 21, 2025
How can you not like a guy who names all his sons after himself? To some, maybe it was an ego trip. To me, it was him declaring his love and presence in their lives, and they carry the name of a winner. Out of seven daughters, only one was given a derivative of his name, Georgetta. Foreman, a two-time heavyweight champion, went on to champion the cause of healthy eating and scored a contract with Salton to become a spokesperson for their fat-reducing grill, the eponymous George Foreman grill, which reaped millions. He won again! —YD
Val Kilmer
December 31, 1959 – April 1, 2025
My first memory of Val Kilmer was seeing him as Batman in Batman Forever as a child. I was completely mesmerized—that chiseled jaw, those piercing eyes, that voice. I was absolutely smitten. From that moment, I followed his career: Iceman in Top Gun, Jim Morrison in The Doors, Doc Holliday in Tombstone, delivering the line "I'm your huckleberry." He brought depth and authenticity to every role, balancing charisma with vulnerability. His memoir, I'm Your Huckleberry, offers an intimate glimpse into his life, career, and journey with remarkable honesty. It reveals his passion for art, spirituality, and resilience through challenges including throat cancer, deepening my appreciation for him as an artist. For the brilliant cinema he's given us over the years, I'm eternally grateful. Thank you, Val, for being our huckleberry. —Dawn Gentle
Sly Stone
March 15, 1943 – June 9, 2025
Around middle school, my music taste shifted, shedding catchy pop and my parents’ ’60s and ’70s classics for something more underground, more cool. Few artists survived the ruthless transition, but Sly and the Family Stone did it with ease. Infectious, groovy, wild, and wacky, Sly had something I needed more than indie credibility: a message of acceptance. From “Thank You (Falettinme Be Mice Elf Agin)” to “Que Sera, Sera”—songs I played so many times the CD ought to have worn out—Sly’s ethos came through loud and clear. “I love you for who you are, not the one you feel you need to be,” went the lyrics to my favorite. Sure, everybody is a star—but there was only ever one Sly Stone. —Kat Johnson
Brian Wilson
June 20, 1942 – June 11, 2025
Back in 2016, I arrived at a midtown New York hotel armed with a notebook and a takeout container of Russ & Daughters whitefish. I was there to interview Brian Wilson about his memoir, and I was terrified. A reporter friend who’d previously met the Beach Boys legend offered me terse advice: “Toughest interview of my career. Prepare lots of questions in anticipation of many monosyllabic responses.” The whitefish did the trick. Wilson answered my questions genially if sparsely, and he signed my copy of Pet Sounds with a flourish. With the help of co-author Ben Greenman, I Am Brian Wilson sheds light on the famously inscrutable, troubled performer and composer of exquisite melodies, revealing not just Wilson’s favorite foods and personal history but also how the chaotic voices in his head were transformed into heavenly harmonies. Wilson passed away this year at age 82, but the music—airy, astonishing, beautiful beyond measure—lives forever. —KJ
Ozzy Osbourne
December 3, 1948 – July 22, 2025
With a career spanning decades, Ozzy Osbourne had an immense impact on music and pop culture. Despite years of life-threatening health complications, his death at the age of 76 was a shock to me and the rest of his millions of fans around the globe. Fittingly, he performed while sitting on a throne at a massive farewell show in Birmingham, England, just a few weeks prior to his death. It may have been his last time on stage, but he's left us with plenty of words (and songs) to remember him by, including his last memoir. “My life has just been unbelievable,” he told a music journalist. “You couldn’t write my story; you couldn’t invent me.” —JP
Jim Lovell
March 25, 1928 – August 7, 2025
When I was in seventh grade, I threw myself headlong into our annual history fair assignment with all the diligence and enthusiasm of a seasoned researcher. My project was centered on the near-disastrous Apollo 13—more specifically, on astronaut James A. Lovell, the mission’s commander, who played an instrumental role in safely maneuvering the damaged spacecraft home. And the most exciting, unexpected moment of my juvenile fact-finding expedition came with an email reply from Captain Lovell himself, who took the time to send answers to my overly enthusiastic queries and wish me luck on the competition. Alas, I didn’t win our school fair, but I felt victorious nonetheless having directly corresponded with a man whose legendary leadership skills and resolve under pressure saved three lives and changed the course of history forever. He will always be remembered for his dedication to science and the exploration of our galaxy as well as his unshakable optimism in the face of catastrophe, but I'll personally never forget his remarkable humility and kindness to one NASA-obsessed kid from Brooklyn. —AM
Robert Redford
August 18, 1936 – September 16, 2025
I grew up in a raucous family of six, and it was often hard for us to all agree on a movie to watch together. One film we loved and returned to time and again, though, was Barefoot in the Park, the Neil Simon play adapted to the screen and starring a young Robert Redford and Jane Fonda. It was hilarious and heartwarming, and I savor the memory of my family and I all laughing in unison at our favorite parts. It also started my lifelong admiration for Robert Redford. All the President’s Men is a movie I feel the need to watch annually, and Ordinary People, for which Redford won an Oscar for Best Director, is as piercing and compassionate a depiction of grief as I’ve ever encountered. I’m not even a baseball fan, and yet I loved The Natural. I mean, the man had range. Romances, comedies, thrillers, dramas. He could make that handsome swoop of dirty-blonde hair work in any genre. It didn’t hurt that he was just as admirable off-screen, working as an activist for the environment and an advocate for independent filmmaking. He did not follow the money, he followed his principles, leaving behind a legacy we’ll all benefit from for years to come. Godspeed, Mr. Redford. —Phoebe Neidl
Jane Goodall
April 3, 1934 – October 1, 2025
I was recently chatting with a friend about having children in the age of climate collapse. On one hand, bringing fewer humans into the world means less strain on the environment. On the other, isn’t it imperative that we raise the future generation of thinkers to share that fundamental love and respect for nature that only truly takes root in our souls when we learn to marvel at the world’s magic from a young age? Personally, I will never forget being a child, watching Jane Goodall rolling around with chimpanzees on the big screen at the Museum of Science in Boston—and I know that I am among many audience members from screenings worldwide who feel similarly. When I heard about her passing, honestly, my first thought was, “Not when the environment needs her most.” However, to have her iconic voice on recording, sharing her message and guidance for the next generation of environmentalists? That brings me hope. —Haley Hill
Diane Keaton
January 5, 1946 – October 11, 2025
Whenever I find myself with nothing to wear, I don’t panic. I just take a deep breath and find my fashion center, which is as easy as asking, “What would Diane Keaton do?” What couldn’t she do, or wear? My favorite might be the banana-yellow suit she paired with huge white socks and a leather headband on Letterman, or the baggy leather pants, striped turtleneck, and bowler hat she wore to the White House in 1981. Yes, yes, Keaton’s turns as Annie Hall and Kay Adams-Corleone are iconic, their legacy sealed in cinema history. She also helped her ex Al Pacino get control of his finances and pick up acting again, a fact I learned from Sonny Boy. But wearing leather pants to the White House? That, my friends, is sartorial-legend behavior. With unparalleled originality, Diane’s headline-making ensembles only got better with age, inspiring so many women to go forth with grace, gusto, and a little goofiness—and what could be more inspiring than that? —KJ
Baek Se-hee
February 25, 1990 – October 16, 2025
I remember the day I first stumbled on I Want to Die, But I Want to Eat Tteokbokki. I felt deeply affected by Baek Se-hee's journey navigating life with depression and anxiety from the very first line. I had recently lost a close friend after a long battle with his mental health, so her words hit me at a particularly sensitive time. Se-hee's ability to find motivation in the small, consistent joys in life—like tiny pillows of spicy-sweet Korean rice cakes—left me in awe of the tenacity and tenderness of the human spirit. My heart was crushed when I heard of her passing, and again when I imagined how her most vulnerable fans might be reacting to the news. I hope that all who have listened to or read Se-hee's essays, sessions with her psychiatrist, and intimate thoughts know that her legacy is one of immense strength. She would want each of us to continue seeking connection and joy, and to be kind to ourselves during our toughest moments. —Rachael Xerri
Note: If you or someone you know needs emotional support, you are not alone. Resources are available. If you are in the US, you can dial 988 for the National Suicide & Crisis Lifeline.
Alice Wong
March 27, 1974 – November 14, 2025
I have long admired author and activist Alice Wong’s work, which spoke deeply to me as a person who grew up with a disabled mom. Being disabled has never defined my mom, and the thesis of Wong’s work—that disabled people are so much more than their conditions—spoke to me on a profound level. Last year, I was honored to interview Wong about her book Disability Intimacy: Essays on Love, Care, and Desire and was moved not only by her unrelenting commitment to her life’s mission but also her tireless optimism. Wong was not interested in being merely a spokesperson; she was interested in lifting up other voices that needed to be heard. This aim was at the heart of her creation of The Disability Visibility Project and was central to her service on the National Council on Disability, where she shared insights on how to strengthen the Americans with Disabilities Act, among other policies. I dream of a world where Wong’s vision becomes a reality. Today it is the work of non-disabled people and allies to continue to carry on her legacy and work together toward a more just and equal world. —Madeline Anthony
DéLana R. A. Dameron
January 30, 1985 – November 29, 2025
It’s no small feat to publish a novel, and it was only early last year that we celebrated DéLana R. A. Dameron, who had long been an award-winning poet, for reaching this very achievement. "I watch a lot of narrative dramas,” she told us about her first full-length work of prose, “and in a sense, I don’t see what I’m doing as very different: taking real people, a real timeline, and, to quote Tracy Chapman, filling in ‘the fiction in the space between.’ When thinking about family history as a narrative jumping off point for Redwood Court, I feel that I was most interested in telling a truthful story about ordinary Black Southern folks in a very specific timeframe (the ’90s) in a very specific place (Columbia, South Carolina). In that sense, yes, I leaned a lot on my personal family history to think of situations that my characters might face within the timeline of the story. And yes, my characters are very close to people in my family and in the neighborhoods where I grew up." We sincerely hope that her loved ones find comfort in the many ways this audiobook is able to keep her earliest memories alive. —HH
Redwood Court (Reese's Book Club)
By DéLana R. A. Dameron
Narrated by Ashley J. Hobbs, Robin Miles, De'Onna Prince, Aaron Goodson, Dominic Hoffman
Tom Stoppard
July 3, 1937 – November 29, 2025
When I clocked Tom Stoppard outside the Broadway theater for Leopoldstadt in 2022, his final and most personal play, it was like I was seeing a rock star. I'd been a fan of his work ever since I saw a college production of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead and was bowled over by its mix of erudition and humor. Stoppard's plays were always packed with lots of research and heady concepts—as well as a tortoise, in the case of Arcadia—but it was the mix of funny on top of the smarts that kept me rapt. Along with binging the audio recordings of this polymath's classic works, it's high time to rewatch Shakespeare in Love to appreciate his genius. —JP
Frank Gehry
February 28, 1929 – December 5, 2025
The first time I visited the Guggenheim Museum Bilbao, it stopped me in my tracks. I was there with my architecture-professor husband and a gaggle of undergraduate students, and we spent the day ogling the impressive structure inside and out. Although labeled a "starchitect," a pejorative that failed to capture his genius, Gehry never disappointed, and I've traveled the globe to experience his buildings close up, including hearing a full orchestra in LA's Disney Hall. His ability to inspire with swoops and curves will be missed, but his influence will undoubtedly reverberate for generations. —JP
Conversations with Frank Gehry
By Barbara Isenberg
Narrated by Stefan Rudnicki, Marsha Mason, Barbara Isenberg
Sophie Kinsella
December 12, 1969 – December 10, 2025
When Madeleine Sophie Wickham, the British author who wrote Confessions of a Shopaholic and other hits under the pen name Sophie Kinsella, passed away, I couldn’t help but think back to the moving answer she provided when we asked her about What Does It Feel Like?, her audiobook released late last year that she referred to as her most autobiographical work. "When I was diagnosed with glioblastoma in November 2022, I didn’t think I would ever write again, work again, or maybe even walk again. Even though I was making notes soon after my surgery, I didn’t know how I could turn what had happened to me into a story. I tell stories—that’s my life—and it was only when I hit on fictionalizing my experience to tackle what it feels like to have been diagnosed that I managed to write this novel. Through writing, I’ve learned that I’m far more resilient than I ever thought I would be and that, even in sad and difficult circumstances, I will always laugh and share my sense of fun. Above all, I’ve learned more than ever how much I love my readers and listeners: You are a family to me, and I wish you all a very happy ending." —HH
Rob Reiner
March 6, 1947 – December 14, 2025
There was perhaps no film more frequently screened in my home growing up than Rob Reiner’s inconceivably perfect The Princess Bride, a timeless fantastical love story absolutely brimming with heart and humor. It seems, in that way, to mirror its director, as those close to Reiner remember him for his genuine warmth and generosity of spirit. While Reiner’s cinematic successes (Misery, This Is Spinal Tap, A Few Good Men, When Harry Met Sally, to name just a few) are no doubt central to his legacy, the impact he and his wife, photographer Michele Singer Reiner, made in their lifetimes reaches far beyond the big screen. Dedicated activists committed to social and climate justice, equity and accessibility in early childhood development, LGBTQIA+ equality, and mental health awareness, the couple proved time and again their commitment to building a better world. Reiner’s life’s work, whether behind the camera or at the forefront of politics, will no doubt forever remain as a testament to the fact that great artists can be good men, too. —AM
As You Wish
By Cary Elwes, Joe Layden, Rob Reiner - foreword
Narrated by Cary Elwes, Christopher Guest, Carol Kane, Norman Lear, Rob Reiner, Wallace Shawn, Robin Wright, Billy Crystal
In Memoriam
Though these writers, actors, and musicians passed on in 2025, their words, voices, and performances will last forever.
