Thiam has had an extraordinary life, from being a refugee in Ghana’s capital to a superstar in the world of classical music.
He has been a member of the international rock and roll community for more than 30 years.
But on Friday, he was one of the last of his generation to be cremated.
Thiam, who died Sunday at age 80, had spent the last decade at the top of the world, a feat that was accomplished while being a member and a solo artist.
His career, he said, was “the most beautiful.”
Thiam Sade is among the last surviving members of the legendary jazz band the Grateful Dead, who were inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 2018.
His death came as the band celebrated its 40th anniversary this month.
But in his final years, Thiam had always maintained his independent streak and never lost sight of his music.
In a recent interview, he spoke candidly about the sacrifices his family and friends had made for him, especially when it came to making sure his father, an African-American, had a better life.
Thiaim said he would have loved to be able to see his father one last time, but that the road ahead has been “hard and painful.”
Thiams parents were African-Americans who emigrated from Ghana in the early 1960s.
The family’s first home in the United States was in Chicago.
Thias father worked as a truck driver, and his mother worked as an elementary school teacher.
After graduation, he started a music school, which Thiam started in 1963.
The students had the opportunity to perform in local and national bands, as well as sing in the Harlem Globetrotters and the Chicago Symphony Orchestra.
“We all had the chance to be part of the greatest orchestra in the history of the country,” he said.
“It was a dream of mine to be a conductor.”
Thiim’s mother was a teacher and was a member for 10 years.
The band’s success, which began in the late 1960s, helped Thiam get the chance at a prestigious education.
“My father always told me that he loved to give me opportunities to learn,” he recalled.
“I was a little bit shy and didn’t have the confidence in myself at that time.”
The music, however, was not always easy.
When Thiam was only four years old, his parents divorced.
The separation hurt, but his father still loved his daughter.
He sent her to live with a family friend, who would later become her mentor and mentor-in-law.
When the boy reached the age of 15, he left home to go to school.
Thiims mother, however was not allowed to see him.
Thiahms father also had a history of alcoholism.
He was convicted of raping a 17-year-old woman and sentenced to 20 years in prison.
He eventually got out, but he was forced to go back to prison for another offense.
At the age he was then, Thiahs father was the biggest obstacle to his son getting a chance to live the life he wanted.
“They told me to do my best,” Thiam said.
His mother tried to keep him busy, but she could not.
“When I was a child, I was always hungry and always thirsty,” Thiimi said.
She also had to feed her two older siblings, and they were always hungry.
“But I loved music,” Thim said.
When his father died, Thiums mother said he was overwhelmed by the loss of his son.
He had told her in those years that he would be spending the rest of his life with his son and the rest with her.
“She said, ‘But you don’t have to worry about my son anymore,'” he said of his mother.
“He said, “You have nothing to worry of.
His father was an alcoholic, Thim remembered. “
And then he died, and I was still thinking about him,” Thiaimi said, recalling the days when his father was unable to come home.
His father was an alcoholic, Thim remembered.
He and his father often had trouble finding work in the music business.
When he worked for the band, the manager told him that the band would not pay him unless he was paid $3.25 an hour.
But Thiam refused to go along with it, telling his manager that he was tired of paying.
The manager then called the police, and Thiam and his two brothers were arrested.
Thijim, Thiji, and their mother were put in jail.
Thiyim’s father and mother were imprisoned, too.
In his final days, Thikom was asked by his lawyer if he was going to tell his parents.
“No,” he answered