These days, André Rieu begins his mornings slowly, not by choice, but by listening carefully to what his body asks of him. The effortless energy that once carried him across vast stages, night after night under blazing lights and thunderous applause, has softened with time. Movement now comes with intention. Stillness has become part of the rhythm.
There are mornings when standing for long stretches is difficult, when strength fades sooner than it once did. His arms tire more quickly, and rest is no longer something postponed or ignored. It is necessary. Respected. Accepted without drama.
Yet one thing never changes. Every day, André reaches for his violin.
Not always to rehearse.
Not always to perform.
Sometimes, not even to play.
There are moments when he simply holds it, feeling its familiar weight in his hands. His fingers find their places instinctively, resting where they have rested for a lifetime. In those quiet pauses, there is reassurance — that the music is still present, and that he still belongs to it.
It is not fear that draws him to the instrument, but connection. A reminder that music is not measured by stamina or stage time, but by relationship. The violin does not ask him to stand tall or play endlessly. It only asks him to be there.
Nearby, his wife remains close. Not as a caretaker, and not as a symbol of passing time, but as she always has been — steady, constant, unspoken strength. Their partnership was built long before age entered the conversation, shaped by shared silences as much as shared triumphs.
There is no audience waiting now.
No orchestra watching for his cue.
No spotlight warming the floor beneath his feet.
Instead, there is memory — full and generous. There is love — quiet and unhurried. And there is the understanding that music does not vanish when the stage grows distant.
The world may measure artists by how long they can stand, how loudly they are applauded, or how often they perform. André Rieu measures himself differently now. By touch. By presence. By the simple act of remaining connected.
Even in stillness, he has not stepped away from music.
He has only learned another way to live inside it.
