I don’t have messages from him where he says my name, because my phone died not long after he did. But I have him singing.
Six months before Aidan was diagnosed with cancer, we went to see our daughter’s music concert at her high school. She was in one of the choirs and they were performing an arrangement of a song by legendary Melbourne choir leader, Sue Johnson.
As we worked our way through the bag of chips we’d bought along in lieu of dinner, the choir sang. A wash of 40 young voices, woven together.
Read the original article at The Guardian