A big man, with a big voice, a big smile, a big heart

Well-known singer and musician Raymond Edwards died February 25 after ailing for some time. He was 51. Friend Colin Mahabir delivered the eulogy at the March 6 Funeral Mass at St Mary’s RC Church, St James. The eulogy has been edited for length.

‘My Way’ is a song over which Ray and I developed a particular bond. It became our common theme song, and I will forever think of Raymond when I hear that song. It is a song that speaks to the essence of person who was Raymond Wayne Edwards and to how he lived his life.

What really was Ray’s Way? There are a number of adjectives that describe this man, this husband, this son, this brother, this uncle, this friend. His attributes are well known to all those who interacted with Ray and have been demonstrated in numerous ways over the years.

Tenacious

Ray’s determination was legendary. Once he decided on a goal, or became excited by an idea, he would do all in his power to achieve that goal, or to bring that idea to reality. Challenges were nothing but hurdles to overcome, and when doubts crept in, he would ‘chew them up and spit them out’. As a teen, Ray would exercise on his bicycle. One section of the road he would ride on was rather steep and proved to be too difficult for him to peddle up the incline, so much so that the bike would roll back down the hill, with Ray on it. But Ray would not give up, even after he ended up in the drain at the bottom of the hill. He was unstoppable, and eventually he conquered that hill.

Courageous

Raymond was a very brave man. He had moments when he felt that he was not good enough, but that did not stop him from trying. Instead, he faced those fears and used the energy from that fear to propel himself forward. Every health challenge brought those fears, and we know he had many of those challenges. His default setting in those circumstances would be “OK. Now how can we fix it?” always believing that everything would work out just fine. That approach he applied to every aspect of his life, whether as a performer, a teacher, a journalist, or simply as the human being we knew and loved.

Collaborative

Ray was an all-in, team player. He made it easy for people to work with him, no matter what the project was. Even in difficult moments, he would make it a pleasurable experience for those around him. On one occasion, Ray, Nigel, and Eddie were due to perform at a particular venue. They got there to find that the sound system left a lot to be desired, and that they had been provided with only a single microphone for the three of them to share. Ray’s response was “OK guys, here is what we will do.” He decided who would lead off, who got the mike next and how they would harmonise using that solo mic that had a very thin sound. Needless to say, they sounded like angels, and the audience was blown away.

Cheeky

From a very early age, Ray was cheeky, even without realising it. Mother Pearl talks about a time when Ray received excellent reports on his reading skills from his kindergarten teacher. That confounded his mother who knew that Ray could not yet read. As it turned out, Ray could not actually read. The book the teacher had him ‘reading’ was the same one that his mother had been reading for older sister Paula. Ray had memorised every word of the book and pretended to be reading.

Sensitive

Ray was an extremely sensitive person. He has commented that human beings can be mean and ugly at times, and in his own life experience, he had sometimes been the target of the mean side of humanity. He felt hurt that people often did not take the time to understand that people who were different, for whatever reason, bigger, smaller, taller, shorter, differently abled, were just as human and had feelings, desires, and dreams like everyone else. He deeply believed that nobody deserved to be treated as less than, for any reason. This sensitivity made Ray a better person, a more empathetic person, conscious of, and responsive to the plight of others in society who were disadvantaged or were treated differently. He hated injustice and unfairness and would try to right the wrongs that he saw. This led him to give freely of his time and talent to the Princess Elizabeth Children’s Home, the Blind Welfare Association, and other similar institutions.

Observant

Ray would joke that he was a professional ‘macco.’ Nothing slipped by him: no statement, no gesture, no look. He was adept at reading both verbal and non-verbal cues, and body language was like an open book to him, a part of the story. He encouraged others to be insightful, to pay attention to all that might be happening in their environments, as that would help with understanding the world around them.

Curious

Ray had been an extremely inquisitive person since childhood. His mother, Pearl, talks about times, when as children, Raymond and sister Paula would be in their mother’s office after school before the end of her workday. Paula would sit quietly, while young Ray would wander throughout the office, chatting with anyone who chose to listen, asking about what jobs they did and what tasks they were working on. Perhaps that was the birth of the journalist that Ray would become.

Motivating

It lifted Raymond’s spirit to see family, friends and even recent acquaintances improve their situations. “Follow your dreams, work through your fear of performing, channel your nervous energy into your performance.” He looked beyond the surface and was exceptionally good at identifying latent or nascent talents and then guiding the development of those talents. He made you feel significant, that you had something to contribute.

Supportive

More than just being supportive, Ray was also a protector, a defender. Ray was the definitive gentle giant. But he possessed a fierce side that was revealed only when his people, his friends, his family were threatened in any way. He would fight, legally, physically, with the power of the pen or the voice, to protect and defend those he held dear.

Committed

Raymond’s word was sacrosanct, his commitment was absolute, and he was dependable to a fault. Des shared a story of when, on their second date, Ray took her to the final of Scouting for Talent, at which he was to perform. There, before performing, Raymond fell very ill, collapsed in the dressing room, and needed to be hospitalised. He refused to leave until he had honoured his commitment to perform his signature song ‘This is the Moment’ which he did brilliantly. Having performed, he went backstage and told Des: “OK, you can take me to the hospital now.”  His mantra was to give the audience what they wanted and then deal with the personal stuff after.

Talented

Ray’s talent was indeed a gift from God, a natural musical ability. Although Ray would pay no attention to his piano lessons, putting in no effort and just ‘skylarking’ while sister Paula worked diligently, Ray was the one who could sit at the piano and pull together a tune, while, as Paula says, she could barely play scales. She admits to being irritated, even while being impressed. God blessed Ray with a voice that brought healing, that made spirits soar, that generated laughter, that inspired love. He used that transformative voice, and his mind that was always focused on the positive, to uplift, to stimulate, to encourage.

Ray used his talent with every chance he got, whether through his Saturdays with Ray programme on Talk City, or Sunday Love on Sweet 100, or First Up on 91.1 FM, or reading for children at NALIS, where he sought to encourage youngsters to find their own voices and their own special places in the world.

Humble

Ray was popular, he was exceptionally talented, and he could easily have gotten full of himself. But that was not Raymond Wayne Edwards. Our Ray was genuine, cool, the essence of humility. He never considered himself as better than anyone else, nor did he ever consider himself as less than anyone else. He was comfortable in his own skin, confident in who he was and in what he could offer, with what he could bring to the table. And he made room at that table for anyone and everyone. He was at ease talking to people of any age, of any social status, of any of the many labels that we as humans like to attach. He would babble with babies, and chat with seniors with the same consummate ease.

Loving

Ray loved everybody. He was a big man, with a big voice, a big smile, a big hug, and most of all a big heart. The biggest heart of anyone I have ever known. He had a huge capacity for love, and what he gave freely of his love, he received in return from those with whom he had shared that love. He was always kind, diplomatic and caring.

And nowhere did we see that love more clearly demonstrated than through his love for his family including his in-laws (particularly little Anwyl).

And what can I say about the love shared between Ray and Des. Theirs was a love that was visible, tangible, and unquestioned. Their love was the real thing. There was no need for public displays of affection to prove anything to anyone, their interactions were natural and spontaneous. Their love was deeply personal and remains deeply personal.

All who knew Des and Ray saw the way they supported each other through their respective health issues. They truly exemplified the concept of “in sickness and in health, for better, for worse.”  Ray’s song has ended, but the melody lingers on.

Farewell my brother. The heavens are now blessed with your voice as you sing with the angels.