I can picture it now like a video in my mind: the soft clouds, pockets of blue sky, the exhilaration from the climb, the feel of the wind on my face, and Mum laughing kindly at my lack of skill.the story …

He began to learn to play the piano aged 40 when I was 3. His practising is part of my earliest memories of him, on a lovely piano with marquetry patterns.

Even though he had a breathing tube in his mouth, was heavily sedated and couldn't respond, I know I saw his lips move as if he were trying to tell me he loved me, too.

My grief is always with me, but this song makes me smile.

My dad made him a wheeled 'trolley' when he got bigger, he could lie on it and pull himself along, then he progressed to a small red wheelchair which I loved to have a go in, squealing with excitement due to the speed.

His hands were huge and he felt so protective. Even when he got older we used to hold hands.

Whenever I hear this song, it doesn't make me sad, rather it makes me happy, it's one of the ways I communicate with God.

I looked around at all those who loved him and whose lives he'd changed - just by being him.

At first, listening to this particular song was an emotional challenge, it was just too painful. Over time, however, it has become a source of comfort.

She was, and always will be my hero, throughout my life and most certainly throughout the course of her death.

It was in the fall and I would fall asleep to the song “Angel” and I would fall asleep while I was crying because I was already grieving him.

My Dad’s love for music and “a good tune” lives on in our family.

It was in recent years that I learned this song was one of my grandma’s favorites and I can see why.

The power of algorithms. Inevitable. Scientific. Yet still a bit spooky. And as he lay there, the ‘elephant in the room’, ever present, of his impending death, we played the most poignant, relevant, achingly appropriate lyrics.

Gaynor's "I Will Survive" rocked the church as we filed out, and every time I hear the song now I think of him, of his friends sobbing without restraint in the aisle that day, and the loss of so much intelligence, kindness and talent.

We have/had a tabby cat, ate café snacks and romanced by candlelight

So, when I sing this song, or listen to the multitude of songs that we enjoyed together, it’s like a string connecting us through time and space. His memory is only ever a song away.

I got my first tattoo aged 55. A line of music that runs along the inside of my left arm. The things you do for your kids.

We’d stand arm in arm in a large circle around the living room, all doing our best to remember the ‘weird’ words.

The three hour drive back and forth to visit him was filled with the Mt. Hood National Forest, Warm Springs Indian Reservation, wild horses and music.