Years after Toby was gone, someone stumbled upon a small leather case — worn, faded, but carefully kept. Inside was a flash drive, labeled in Toby’s own handwriting: “Dad – Unfinished.” There was only one file on it. A single song. Half complete. Half silent. The recording began with a few faint notes — the gentle, aging voice of Toby’s father humming into an old microphone. Then, halfway through, Toby’s guitar slipped in softly. Not to fix anything. Not to finish it. Just to be there. “You hear that?” whispered the studio engineer who found it. “That’s a father and son… breathing the same song.” No one knew why Toby never released it. Maybe it wasn’t meant for the world to hear. Maybe it was meant for that quiet corner of the heart where love outlives sound. Now, every once in a while, when the Keith family gathers, they play it — no words, no spotlight. Just a father beginning a melody… and a son helping it find its way home.
Introduction: I remember my uncle at a family BBQ one summer, grinning ear to ear as he raised a cold…