Before leaving for Andros, he made one thing clear: He had to be back for church.

When Giovanni McKenzie boarded the small plane bound for San Andros, Bahamas, on Friday morning, he wasn’t planning to stay long.

He had one more commitment waiting for him in Nassau.

Before takeoff, the 35-year-old keyboardist told the pilot he needed to be back in time to play at Revolution Church, where he had faithfully served behind the keyboards.

It would be one of the last conversations he ever had.

Minutes later, the aircraft crashed in the pine forest of San Andros while heading to the All Andros Regatta, claiming the lives of everyone on board.

The church service on Sunday, Giovanni was determined not to miss, would go on without him.

For Pastor Rickeno Moncur, the news was almost impossible to process. “It tore my heart to pieces,” he said, addressing his congregation, his voice breaking as he remembered the young man he watched grow from a gifted teenager into a respected musician.

Giovanni was only 16 when he first sat behind the keyboard at what was then Word of Life Ministries. Week after week, they said he remained there, allowing his gift to mature alongside his faith.

“Through faithful service, God developed both his gift and his anointing until he became a worshipper who knew how to usher God’s people into His presence,” Moncur said.

“Gio was family.”

Long before Revolution Church had a full worship band, Giovanni was there.

“There were many Sundays when there were only two musicians,” Moncur recalled.

“But when he sat behind those keyboards, it sounded like heaven had sent an orchestra.”

To many, Giovanni was simply an extraordinary musician. He never played to impress people but to honour God.

“There were services where God had already moved so powerfully through worship that there was hardly anything left for me to preach,” Moncur said.

“His gift created an atmosphere where hearts were healed, lives were changed, and the presence of God became undeniable.”

Outside the church walls, Giovanni became one of the founding members of The Pond Band, performing at cultural events throughout the Bahamas and helping shape the sound of modern Bahamian music.

Yet despite the stages, the applause and the recognition, friends say he never lost his humility.

One fellow musician remembered countless nights playing beside him. “We cried on those keyboards together in worship,” he wrote. “We trusted one another.”

He said Giovanni constantly reminded younger musicians to value themselves. “He always encouraged me to know my worth, but have a heart in it. Don’t cheat yourself.”

Anthony Munnings described him as the man who first introduced him to music.

“My brother, my friend, my teacher… I can’t believe you gone out like that.”

A former classmate remembered the quiet young man they knew as “Slanks.”

Church members remembered the faithful keyboardist who sat in the same place every Sunday.

Artists remembered sharing stages with him.

Congregations remembered how the music felt different whenever Giovanni played.

“It was a new sound in the house,” one worshipper recalled.

“It will be long remembered.”

Just weeks before his death, Giovanni sent Pastor Moncur a Father’s Day message.

It would become one of his final texts.

“Happy Father’s Day,” he wrote. “I just wanted to say I love you and appreciate you. I always looked up to you as a role model and father figure—someone I admire and aspire to be like one day.”

Today, those words carry a weight no one could have imagined.

For his elder sister, Shadaria Nottage, Giovanni was much more than a brother.

“He was my first best friend,” she wrote. “A piece of my heart that I never imagined living without.”

“They say time heals all wounds,” she continued. “But every second stretches into a lifetime.

“Every minute reminds us that you’re gone. Every hour asks us to face a world that keeps turning without you, even though ours has stopped.”

The keyboards Giovanni once played now sit silent.