And that was something that he kept till the end: "Even the year he died, he got to celebrate the Clean Monday holiday with people in our house, as he always did. I remember him sitting on the top balcony looking at the people and I knew what he was thinking: He will not live for another Clean Monday Holiday. He died in March of ‘85. The night he passed, by coincidence, we all gathered at home, children, groomsmen, everyone. We wished him a goodnight and left. He was downstairs - he was too tired to go up and down the stairs but he never stopped painted. The woman who cared for him said that that night he got up, looked at the living room - incredible ... - and thanked God. Then he went and lay down and left so calmly ... He did not leave with anxiety. He was serene. This peace was his strength. A power that still emits. " And Drosoula Eliot-Vassiliou concludes: "They always told me that I was lucky to have such a dad. And I replied, "I'm not lucky, I'm smart I went and found him" "