Death of Professor Eto

It was unavoidable. This had been clear for several years.

I guess it was what he expected himself.
I remember Professor Eto's face, looking up at his wife, Angela, like a baby from his sickbed.

Each of us did everything we could.

* This photo of Professor Eto and I was taken in 1993, when I was invited to be a judge for the Queen Elisabeth International Music Competition, although I was relatively young at the time. Now this photo has become very precious to me.

Last summer, I was with Angela at the gala concert for the Eto Toshiya violin competition in Kodaira city. She comes from the US. Though she was a violinist, she cast everything aside to marry him. Their mutual affection always warmed my heart.

She speaks Japanese fluently, but does not read it. Since her husband took to his sickbed, she must have had tremendous difficulties coping with things like bank accounts, schools and social security, all of which he had handled previously in Japanese.

I am married and live in a foreign country, so I am keenly aware of the dilemmas, the threats to pride and the feeling of getting older.

Thinking about these things, I suggested to Angela that she go back to the US for a while. Her answer was definite. She told me in tears. "If I were to leave, he might be tears, "If sent to a hospital, where he would be exposed to all kinds of infectious diseases. If I were away, his circumstances might get worse in order to make things more convenient for those who take care of him. The violin has bound us together. What I must do now is to stay close to him.

There is nothing to add.
There is nothing I can do.
All I can do is watch her thoughtfully from a distance, as she closes the gates and mourns.

We, his students, go on living, enriched by his tremendous beneficence, which cannot be expressed in simple words.

It is difficult to get an overall picture of him, because he had such enormous presence.

I will try to approach his level, if even just one step closer.
Another giant has left us.