D, Just a couple of months ago, you and I were texting about your master graduation and your crystal anniversary. Just a couple of weeks ago, we were chatting, celebrating you on your birthday. Just yesterday, you were popping in online acknowledging one of my social media updates. And today, you are gone; and I’m devastated and immensely saddened. The silence is heart-breaking. It feels hard to find the words to describe you and our 20-year friendship… as if words are not enough. You, the only person I called D, were so very special to both Roland and I, and to so many. An amazing friend, and so much more than that: a loving husband to my very dear friend, Aoibhe, a loving father to Cole and Cora; a loving son, a loving brother, a maestro musician, a smart business partner, a caring educator, a gifted composer, and etc… For 20 years, I’m grateful for the memories we’ll cherish forever as our paths continued to cross both personally and professionally; and with all projects and adventures, chats and meet-ups, I remember your big heart and your big brain, and that smile of yours. You were such a talented musical genius and I feel beyond blessed to have an original track you composed just for me; a legacy I have used and will continue to use in my business as the true friend that you were, composing the absolute perfect track that gives me goosebumps every single time I hear it. It means a lot to me that my clients and book readers get to hear your work as they embark on their journey towards their extraordinary because you, D, were extraordinary. All those years ago (ok, decades!), I remember Aoibhe announcing at work that you were playing at the LLS that Friday night and how we should tune in to see you in action – this was the first time we saw you. I remember our first ever meet, in real life, when Aoibhe introduced us and getting such groundedness and an understated presence from you; I liked that a lot and liked you there and then. I remember how you looked at Aoibhe on your wedding day with that twinkle in your eye. I remember how you so kindly offered to play and accompany Aoibhe for our wedding, and how you together gifted us a beautiful rendition of Ave Maria during our ceremony. I remember you making fun of me for being a black tea snowflake — and you were so right, I’d literally dip in and out my tea bag in the hot water, when we’d get cuppas together at the kitchen table. I remember you making us all laugh out loud when we had dropped by after being at Bloom and bringing you these ‘healthy’ snacks and you rolling your eyes at us — hey, in our defence, they did not have sushi there. I remember how you were with Cole and Cora, thinking back of that scrapbooking board of achievements in the kitchen, and them arriving from school and wanting to share their day with you. I remember you helping me with an obscure musical notation I had stumbled upon on a music sheet and how I had spent several hours trying to find what it meant online, and you, within minutes, texting me back with the answer. I remember your professionalism as you produced my video podcast and speaker reel, and realising I had found my match in perfectionism in you. I remember seeing you live at UCD with the Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band when you not only played and sang but also had arranged and orchestrated the whole thing, and then met us backstage, being so incredibly humble about it. I remember us surprising you by dropping in on your doorstep our office chairs — in pieces, so minimal DIY for you, as you had said you’d love to have them for your new studio. I remember when you had gotten your garden office all set up and showing Roland and I around with such pride, and how you felt this was perfect and supportive of all your creative projects. I remember how relieved Roland was to pass on his digital piano to you for your studio — he knew his piano would be in great hands, and rightly so. I remember you playing on our baby grand when you and Aoibhe visited us in our new home, and how you teased Roland about his favourite band and then proceeded to, by ear, play one of their songs. I remember hearing you laugh with Roland; you two really appreciated each other’s sense of humour, both so witty. I remember seeing you perform and shine through our screens during the lockdown periods, and how your music brought smiles to our home and many other. And, I could go on and on and on… For now, I will say that when I think of you, I think what an extraordinary person you were, through and through. Someone who was there all along for the past 20 years. Someone who was taken away far too soon. Someone, whom we will dearly miss. We are heart-broken. Sending you light and love wherever you are D. Roland and I are thinking of you, your family, your friends, and especially Aoibhe, Cole and Cora, sending you all our love at this tragic time. You will now and always be in our hearts. With MUCH love, Roland and Frederique D and Aoibhe gifting us a beautiful rendition of Ave Maria at our (Roland and Frederique) wedding ceremony. Trédion, France, 17th of March, 2007 “The little things? The little moments? They aren't little.” Jon Kabat-Zinn Here we are: D, Aoibhe, Roland and Frederique; neither of us liking selfies, but thank goodness we did that one on that day, and can now cherish that pic of the 4 of us.