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Not Forgotten, Ever

September 22, 2007

I’ve been too sick to make a mention of the passing of Pavarotti. I was in Italy when it happened, and if we hadn’t already been completely exhausted and sick of trains, I would have hopped down to Modena to stand I-don’t-care-how-many hours in line to pay hommage.

I’ve always hated how people made fun of the fat man. What, because he has food issues he can’t sing? They loved him when he was younger, etc., but as he aged and got involved in other things and okay, maybe even got a bit sloppy and never really worked on his acting skills and was stubborn about learning new roles…. well, okay, I can understand the criticism. But a lot of people seemed to want to attach that to his ability as a singer.

But basically, you can’t touch that. The man was GOLD, pure. And he just seemed like such a sweetheart, always a twinkle in his eye. Luciano, I loved you, a little. Okay, a lot. My heart swells when I hear you sing and while you are gone from this world, you will always be in my heart.

I watched his master classes on YouTube and I was impressed not only with his sensitivity but his accuracy and the subtilty of his comments. He took very nice but not outstanding students and with just a few words, took them up a notch, several in the case of one video I watched.

Anyway, I knew his time was coming. We heard when we were there that he’d been admitted to the hospital and that is was serious. I felt a sense of doom when they announced that.

Strangely enough, before we left, I had a premonition about him dying while we were there. Not sure what to say about that, but in some ways, his death was not a surprise.

I wore black that day in Rome and later learned that he hated black and told everyone around him that he didn’t want black worn when he died. So Luciano, so lovely.

Ciao, Maestro. I miss you but then again, you’re never really gone. And that is a blessing for all of us.

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