Sylvie Maréchal was a gritty, powerhouse French singer—a musical chameleon, really—once produced by Dave Stewart (of Eurythmics fame). She was widely known for, amid a string of hits, a 1992 recording of the Stewart/Leonard Cohen-penned "It Just Feels", which she would come to roundly denounce. She was also a painter and a digital fine artist. She was also my friend.

Sylvie befriended me through social media largely because, I supposed at the time, we shared great admiration for the artistry of Samuel Dallé. In short order, though, we struck up the closest thing to real friendship people are able to strike up in the virtual world. We wrote one another about music and painting and she gave me opportunity after opportunity to dust off my French. Sylvie was direct, dryly humorous, and genuinely interested in deep human connection. Genuinely interested in love. We wanted to meet in person and discussed how that might happen.

But this past Saturday morning, I saw that Sylvie's husband and longtime music collaborator, Jack Tocah, posted the following, on Facebook: "Cette nuit, Sylvie, my love, à rejoint le monde des étoiles; c'est trés, trés dur. Je suis au fond du trou." (Translation: "That night Sylvie, my love, rejoined the world of stars—it is very, very hard. I am in the hole.")

Sylvie Maréchal has moved on. I wish her sweet soul peace on the journey and cherish the time I had here with her. Her last written words to me—words she'd written often—were: "Maybe one day soon, my beauty, I will write a song for you." Maybe, Sylvie. Just maybe. Peut-être. Et merci. Thank you for being mon amie.

Sincere condolences to Jack Tocah and all who knew and loved dear Sylvie Maréchal.

— Patsy