I never thought I’d be writing something like this about
Adam Robinson.
I’m heartbroken.
For those who haven’t heard, Adam was one of nine people killed Sunday when a private jet crashed in Palm Beach County, Florida.
Adam’s last LinkedIn posts was about me and our webinar this week.
He was joking about how I called him an idiot for not combining RB2B and MoltSets into one business.
We were supposed to debate it live on Tuesday.
Now I couldn’t care less who was right.
It breaks my heart that I’ll never hear his voice on the other end of the phone again, laughing and telling me why I was the idiot.
Adam was one of the first founders who helped me when I was building my company.
He became a friend and someone I saw eye to eye with on how to build software companies.
He was part of my private group, SaaS Yacht Club, and he’d help anyone who asked.
He could disagree with you about almost anything, and somehow you’d walk away liking him
even more.
I last saw him at the
Clay Sculpt event, sitting with him and
Varun Anand, talking about business, life, and what was next.
None of us knew how precious that time would become.
You always assume there will be another call.
Another event.
Another chance to catch up.
Until there isn’t.
One of the biggest lessons Adam taught me: you don’t have to build a company just to sell it.
You don’t have to raise money, build a huge team, or chase the exit.
You can bootstrap, be profitable, and build a business that gives you freedom today.
He was the proof.
And his dream was bigger than his own freedom. It was for his kids, and the generations after them.
As a father, I can’t stop thinking about that.
He changed the way I think about LeadMagic.
What success really means.
What I want this business to give back to my own family.
I wish I’d told him more clearly how much that meant to me.
And I’m not alone.
Adam’s brand was giving, sharing, and challenging conventional wisdom.
The wins, the losses, the numbers, the mistakes, and the things most people were afraid to say.
He inspired a new generation of founders to believe they could build something meaningful without giving up their independence.
He showed people another path.
He made people laugh. He brought people together.
I’ve been away from LinkedIn for a while, but Adam reminded me why I started building a personal brand as a founder.
Not for the followers or impressions.
For the people you meet who end up changing your life in ways they may never realize.
No business lesson makes this loss easier.
My heart goes out to everyone who lost their lives, and to all the people who loved them.
Adam, thank you for taking my calls when I was just getting started.
For believing in what I was building.
For challenging me and sharing your journey.
And most of all, for being a friend.
I wish we had more time.
One more call. One more argument. One more laugh.
Rest in peace, Adam.
You’ll be missed more than you know.