Papillons for piano solo
Some of you will have known our son Leo from when he was at Weymouth College; or maybe you'll have met him in Bradford or Leeds from when he went to university and afterwards found work here. Or you might have got to know him from his later years where was extremely successful as a project manager in an IT company. He drew so many around his bubbly, open personality.
In 2018 Leo died, aged 42, of bowel cancer. When, at the height of the first pandemic lockdown in 2020, we came to the second birthday since his death - 22nd April, when he would have been 44 - the intensity of our loss was heightened, and I focused this time on composing a short piano miniature in his memory. It is entitled "papillons" (butterflies) and in my mind at any rate links the seemingly erratic flitting around of a group of butterflies to the rich diversity of Leo's very active and ordered existence. He had a big, generous, all-embracing character.
The carefree, whimsical, improvisatory nature of this music belies his great sense of purpose and terrific self confidence. And a terrific sense of humour. Just a few days before he died Leo and I went for a "walk" together round the first floor of the London Cancer Clinic, both giggling at our joint enfeeblement - his cancer and my pre-knee-replacement-arthritis-cum-Parkinson's. His was genuine, infectious amusement utterly masking the pain and discomfort of his everyday deterioration, and without any hint of self pity despite knowing that his end was close.
There is so much more to tell but which will remain locked in my heart until my time comes. Of course I grieve every day, as do Leo's mother, sisters, widow, other family and many, many friends. But our grief is framed by such pride to have been part of and witness to a full and successful life.
This for me is a healing music. It is not his kind of music at all - but that would not have prevented him from listening to it with open mind.
In 2018 Leo died, aged 42, of bowel cancer. When, at the height of the first pandemic lockdown in 2020, we came to the second birthday since his death - 22nd April, when he would have been 44 - the intensity of our loss was heightened, and I focused this time on composing a short piano miniature in his memory. It is entitled "papillons" (butterflies) and in my mind at any rate links the seemingly erratic flitting around of a group of butterflies to the rich diversity of Leo's very active and ordered existence. He had a big, generous, all-embracing character.
The carefree, whimsical, improvisatory nature of this music belies his great sense of purpose and terrific self confidence. And a terrific sense of humour. Just a few days before he died Leo and I went for a "walk" together round the first floor of the London Cancer Clinic, both giggling at our joint enfeeblement - his cancer and my pre-knee-replacement-arthritis-cum-Parkinson's. His was genuine, infectious amusement utterly masking the pain and discomfort of his everyday deterioration, and without any hint of self pity despite knowing that his end was close.
There is so much more to tell but which will remain locked in my heart until my time comes. Of course I grieve every day, as do Leo's mother, sisters, widow, other family and many, many friends. But our grief is framed by such pride to have been part of and witness to a full and successful life.
This for me is a healing music. It is not his kind of music at all - but that would not have prevented him from listening to it with open mind.
I incorporated Papillons into an extended composition in September/October called "Butterfly in the Breeze" - click here to access this.
