"He was Energy, filled with optimism. No matter what happened, no matter how hard things got – he always smiled, joked and looked up to the sky. He kept moving forward. Two meters high, with a straight back, and always speaking the truth. He lived through what he did. He didn’t just sing – he was a hero of the stage. And he fought the same way, not talking about the war itself. He loved his friends and was fierce with his enemies. Ukraine flowed through his veins. That was his typical Galician-Slipak-Omelyan persistency – believing that he was the one who could change the world. Infinitely outgoing, he was always ready to give you everything he had without a thought. He was the type of guy that would nonchalantly come visit you for a day that would turn into a month, and then just as easily invite you over to his place for another month or two. The stage was his calling. His Hollywood. He was on that path since childhood. Dudaryk (Men’s Choir), the French Grand Prix, the Paris Opera – these aren’t just his achievements, but also, in our mind, the achievements of our family and of all of Ukraine. I can still hear his rendition of “When the two parted” while we were his guests in Sardinia. That was the last time when our big family was together. The Maidan changed him. He was always ashamed, to some extent, that he wasn’t on that smoke-filled square. He wrote, called, and actively organized help for our cause from France. After the first war, he came back a changed man. Even stronger, more persistent and more focused on the important things. He died like the true Cossack that he wanted to be – that he was – with a weapon in his hands. Fighting. There is nothing harder than burying your loved ones. I don’t know how it is up there for you, Vasya. It might have been better if you stayed at the opera, and taught everyone on Facebook how to better control the world and to overcome the Moskals. Rest in peace, Brother! Rest in peace, Wassyl Slipak!"