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A 14-song album containing Kaskas’s unfinished songs was released two weeks ago, produced by his longtime friend Jeff van Dyck, who collected 22 musicians from around the world to finish the project called, fittingly, Theodosius, a potpourri of songs ranging from heavy metal to classical, from jazz to pop to space music and alt rock.

“It’s so lovely we could do this for Saki,” his sister Sia said. “Saki worked on this the last two years of his life, it would have been so sad if it had been left behind. It means his spirit is still alive.”

Sia has gone public talking about her brother’s tragic end hoping to spare other families the pain hers has endured. Hers is a message of openness and acceptance.

“Stigma was a huge part of Saki’s passing away,” Sia said, sitting at Lonsdale Quay near her place of employment. “After Saki passed away I dove into his journals and emails. He was afraid to come out, he was afraid he would hurt us, his family.”

Kaskas was 45 when he died in November, 2016, his body undiscovered for five days. The coroner told Sia there were pamphlets and brochures for rehab and recovery spread over the counter in his Gastown condo.

Sia was there when members of the fire department finally smashed down the door that had reinforced security because of the expensive recording equipment inside.

The attending coroner emerged with the grim news and smelling like death, Sia said. No one had known.

In hindsight, there were warning signs galore: He’d quit the lucrative tech world to pursue his dream of composing and recording his own music; he’d sold his condo and moved to the edge of the Downtown Eastside; he began missing family functions, would disappear for days, wouldn’t answer his phone.