I only just learned that one of my beloved coaches and collaborators died of pancreatic cancer in May. She was my age. I didn't even know she was ill. I heard about it in an email from my voice teacher's wife, who had only just heard it herself.
This was the coach who played for my concert production of Samson et Dalila in 2008 and for my Verdi Requiem concert in 2013. She looked fine then, although she had lost a lot of weight, which she attributed to doing yoga. Maybe she was already ill and didn't know it.
So how out of the loop could I be? There was a memorial service a few days after she died, in her apartment. I know that now because after hearing of her death, I snooped around her daughter's Facebook page and found an announcement of it. I don't know where the guest list came from or where notices were posted (other than by her daughter, who only met me once or twice). (You can read more about her here.)
She apparently is now in London, singing (I don't know many details). The life I wanted; being in the performing arts and living in Europe. Even if she doesn't make it as a professional singer she will have had that experience, that capstone of upper middle class young adulthood, "study abroad"(although my coach and her husband did not have a lot of money and I assume their daughter has done all her studying abroad on grants and scholarships).
I always envied the relationship between mother and daughter. They loved each other and my coach was always supportive of her daughter, every step of the way.
Right now I am more in shock than just sad. I wonder what lesson there is here?
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