The great men of old…

They all cross to the other side eventually.
Not many are left.

I was lucky to meet him.
An extraordinary man.
My mentor, my teacher,
one who believed in me
when I didn’t.

Someone so knowledgeable,
so wise, so inspiring,
that his strength was gentle,
firm, stern,
yet warm, caring.

He taught me the love that lives in music,
the magic of life through music,
through singing.
“The lights” – as he used to say.

Thank you for igniting the music within me,
a love that was in me since birth,
but I wasn’t brave to own.
You pulled me out of myself,
to shine to the outside.

He had an eye to spot talent,
and he would encourage you to be brave
while he was holding your hand.
He touched thousands of lives,
and he didn’t have social media, or a website.
He liked to walk in the mountains,
and sail the seas.
An adventurous romantic, in his own words.

To be adventurous one needs to be courageous.

Thank you for teaching me
to listen, to be patient, to allow, to respect,
to intertwine, to harmonise, to believe…
… to be myself from my heart.

Thank you for your humour
and your half Spanish
that made us all laugh so much.
Thank you for being an example,
and for bringing us together through our voices.

My mind is not as it used to be,
I am not as eloquent now,
but not even the most precious words
can describe how much you mean to me.

Always and forever in my heart,
“…until we meet again,
may God hold you in the palm of his hand”.
Hasta siempre, mi querido maestro Rimas Zdanavicius.