‘He had a rare and beautiful way of seeing the world’

Last Sunday afternoon our world changed forever when we were told our beloved son James had died. He was only 28; the second born of our three wonderful boys.

Since last Christmas, James had been living back home with us in Wells, and we loved having him around. His presence made our lives brighter. The Sunday before his death Serena, Ben, James, Tom and I spent a special afternoon and evening together as a family in Bristol – walking, watching football, sharing food and enjoying comedy. James was on sparkling form: to be with him was to experience an improvised, free-flowing stand-up routine. He was a mesmerising storyteller, a brilliant mimic, and a gifted composer and guitarist. He lit up every moment and captured the attention of people from every background.

After performing in Bath last weekend, James spent time with friends before his death. Last week we formally identified James – as we did 28 years ago for his birth certificate – a parental duty that broke our hearts.

It’s impossible to capture the magic of James in a blog post, but as the four of us try to come to terms with his loss, here are just some of our memories:

My wife, Serena and I will always treasure the day James came into our world, with his remarkable mane of dark hair and glistening gold highlights. Serena was unable to take her eyes off him. In the mornings, James didn’t cry to be picked up from his cot – instead he sang nursery rhymes – loudly, passionately and tunefully. Just a few years later he picked up a guitar and never put it down. These past few months, James and I often worked from our home at the same time. James was constantly surrounded by music. During short breaks he would strum his guitar, working on complicated riffs and composing new material – creating music that would make people feel something powerful, every time.

Our eldest son, Ben remembers James practising guitar scale exercises for hours as a child in his room. Later, his astonishing performances for sell-out audiences and at festivals were built on that repetitive hard work and dedication – and the kind of musical muscle memory that turns good into great.

A couple of years ago James invited his younger brother, Tom to join his new band, AIRFLO. Tom describes James as a ‘genius, always pushing for more’. James put drumsticks in Tom’s hands when he was too young to form a sentence. Tom says that James was the one who made people laugh, really laugh until they couldn’t breathe; the one with a rare and beautiful way of seeing the world.

We hope the pictures here give you just a glimpse of the magic of James George William Wilson. Here at home, his oversize trainers are still in the hallway, his battered white guitar still by his bed, his gig and festival backstage passes still on the wall.

Just a couple of days after his death, James’ song, Bubble was released as planned by AIRFLO. You can hear his creativity and energy in every note. James was a perfectionist, but he was particularly pleased with how it sounds. You can listen here:

But please listen on Spotify if you can. He would have preferred that.

James was so looking forward to AIRFLO’s sell-out gig at the Louisiana in Bristol. Tom and his fellow band members made the decision to go ahead as a tribute to James. It was an overwhelming experience: a live crowd-sourced love letter to James from people he had moved and inspired.

In time we will celebrate James’ life in music and words – in the right place and in the right way. It will be a unique and unforgettable celebration of the truly extraordinary person he was, and will always be.

James was passionate and creative, clever and funny. He was honest and direct. James enriched our lives beyond measure, and we loved him deeply.

Serena, Andrew, Ben and Tom Wilson

James’ guitar taking pride of place at AIRFLO’s sell-out tribute gig.