Remembering Tabatha O’Conner

Sometimes in life, you encounter someone that you need to spend next to no time with to realize that they’re a truly special person. And sometimes, it’s only when they’re gone too soon, that you realize the conclusion you drew about them was spot on. And always, after the window of opportunity has closed, you wish you could go back and enjoy a little more of their company while you still had the time.

Tabatha O’Connor was one of those souls that made an indelible impression on people with whom she crossed paths, no matter how brief the time spent in her presence. She was striking. Incredibly beautiful, but also refreshingly kind, which is all too rare, especially in people that could have the potential to allow their looks to be what grants them progress in their life, rather than how they treat people.
No, Tabatha (called Tabby by most everyone that knew her) had the right understanding that the golden rule was the ultimate way to live well.

“Tabby was such an unusual case as far as music was concerned. She came to it later in life, unlike most with strong musical talent. But, when she did, it was special,” said Michael James Carey, O’Connor’s longtime, and final love/primary musical collaborator.
Growing up, she didn’t sing, other than just at home. She was a ballet dancer. And she went to The School of American Ballet in New York when she was 12. She excelled as a dancer early on, but the steep costs of continuing that path would begin to close the door on that part of her artistic giftedness.