To most they don’t appear to be related in any way, for me the connection is strong. It’s simple really. When I think of Daffodil Day I think of my old man. When I think of my old man I think about our shared connection through music.  I constantly think about music.

My Dad was officially diagnosed with cancer on Daffodil Day 2012. I was with him that day at John Flynn Hospital as he underwent a procedure to confirm a diagnosis. 

I waited for hours in the café hoping for a positive outcome. We knew my Dad had cancer, what we didn’t know was how swift and devastating the outcome would be.

My Dad was vulnerable that day, scared even, it was a side of him I’d rarely experienced.  My job was to play it down, search for the positive in the negative and offer hope in what was to be a hopeless situation.

I waited with my Dad in recovery. Like a scene from a film the doctor made his way to our bedside and confirmed the diagnosis.  Cholangiocarcinoma. How the fuck do you spell that? I had the doctor scribble it down. Bile Duct cancer. We didn’t know what the doctor knew at the time, it was inoperable, rare and lethal.

The Cancer Council had their display in the foyer of the hospital that day. I didn’t realise it but it was Daffodil Day. I bought a pin in support and I buy one every year. Daffodil Day is a day I’ll never forget.

My Dad fought for his life, eventually succumbing to the disease six months later.  In the months before he died he was unable to attend some gigs I had, gigs he would otherwise never miss. Together we loved music.

Daffodil Day 2012 was a turning point in my life. Music has been a source of therapy for me ever since as I’ve dealt with the grief of losing my Dad.  Music connects me to him still and always will.

Music and Daffodil Day. The connection is strong and always will be. My thoughts go out to all those effected by cancer today and everyday.