Once in a blue moon, a singer walks in the door for that first lesson, and you find yourself ear to ear with a truly glorious talent. Such was the case for me some two years ago, when a young Japanese mezzo-soprano named Makiko Narumi came to study voice with me. Her teacher, Beverley Johnson, had passed away and Makiko asked me for help in preparing the demanding role of the Mother Superior in the Juilliard Opera Center's production of Poulenc's Les Dialogues des Carmélites. I was glad to learn that Makiko was also working with Rita Shane of the Eastman School of Music. Since Rita and I were contemporary products of Beverley's studio, I knew that it would not be difficult for us to cooperate in giving this gifted young singer as much support as possible as she sang from triumph to triumph. Her Poulenc performances went superbly. Then, the unthinkable happened. Makiko was stricken with cancer.

Robert White with Makiko Narumi. Listen to Makiko Narumi sing an excerpt from Mahler's Ruckërt Lieder.

We learned the terrible news in the summer of 2001. Throughout her extensive treatments at Memorial Sloan-Kettering Hospital here in New York, this incredible young artist kept fighting and learning and doing. Her humor never failed her, and her artistry never faltered. On days when her condition made it difficult to come to Juilliard, I would travel to her apartment to give her the lesson. Makiko—in the Japanese tradition—would ask me to remove my shoes upon entering her home. "Don't worry, Bobby," she would say with a wicked little twinkle in her eye, "I have some oversized slippers here for your big Irish feet!"

For me, Makiko had musical and vocal gifts similar to the late Kathleen Ferrier, for she was (like Ferrier) not only a superb mezzo with contralto colors in the voice, but an excellent pianist, as well. I only learned of her keyboard prowess at a lesson this past January, when she asked me to sing the tenor line to her alto in the "Et Misericordia" duet from the Bach Magnificat, while she accompanied us both. As I sang, I couldn't help but be amazed at how Makiko's flawless playing in no way interfered with her beautiful vocal production.

During the fall season—while fitting in lessons with Makiko's hospital stays and chemotherapy sessions—we worked together on her part in the Mahler Second Symphony ("Resurrection") for a December performance with the Juilliard Orchestra and Choral Union at Carnegie Hall. To conserve her strength, Makiko was allowed to sit through much of her time on stage, standing up only when she sang. Rita and I joined hands at the dress rehearsal as Makiko sang her heart and soul out in the prophetic lines of her Urlicht solo: "Der Mensch liegt in grösster Pein! Je lieber möcht' Ich im Himmel sein!" ("Man lies in the greatest pain! I would so wish to be in Heaven!") At the performance, her glorious voice filled Carnegie and moved many of us to tears.

On January 17, 2002, Makiko scored one more triumph when she sang Mahler's Liebst du um Schönheit at the Marilyn Horne master class held in the Juilliard Theater. At the end of Makiko's performance, Marilyn Horne commented to the audience that she had never heard the piece sung better.

That was to be the last time I would hear Makiko sing in public. By spring, she was back in the hospital and, from there, she flew directly home to Japan. Makiko died in Tokyo in late April. That voice and that joyous person will remain in my heart always.