From the tender age of 7, Alex Morgan-Welch loved practicing the viola for her father. Wherever he was, she'd drag in her music stand and set up shop.
Living room, basement, she'd even practice in the kitchen as he munched on a sandwich.
"He was basically my best friend and was supportive of everything I did. But the music — I guess he was just so proud of the level of commitment I have," said Alex, 15, a sophomore at Andover High School.
So when Mark Welch Jr., a retired minister from the West Parish Congregational Church in Andover, discovered his colon cancer was terminal, father and daughter set music-related goals for their remaining time together.
Alex was determined to be accepted into the elite Boston Youth Symphony, and Welch was determined to see her perform at least once with the group.
Both achieved their goals before he died Jan. 1 — the day that now divides Alex's life into before and after.
"I played at his memorial service — I played the viola. That was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do," Alex said.
It wasn't really a eulogy, she said.
"This was my tribute."
From the time she was a small child, Alex's father shared his love for music with her and was dedicated to helping with her musical endeavors. As his wife worked full-time in Boston, Welch made sure to be home at 2:05 p.m. every day to meet the school bus.
The pair had their little routines: watch MTV; take trips to CVS and Staples; pick up fast food at Subway or JP Licks on their drive home from viola lessons in Boston. When he retired five years ago, Welch promised to give of himself even more.
"He said he retired to be my friend, chauffeur, PR rep and father," Alex said.
Welch was 70 when he died, but he suffered from heart ailments even before Alex's birth. He later was diagnosed with cerebral angiopathy, which caused countless strokes of all sizes.
"I have reason to believe that he never really felt physically well, but he pretended like nobody could have imagined. He wanted you to let your guard down," said Beverly Morgan-Welch, his wife and Alex's mom.
"He lived nine lives. He instilled in others a ferocious work ethic. And he had a ferocity toward joyous living."
Within the first year or so of Alex's musical career, Welch passed out at a McDonalds on their way home from Boston. Despite suffering from congestive heart failure, he was determined to drive Alex to her lesson.
"Mark never complained about taking her to rehearsal. And if he could squeeze in a trip to the mall so Alex could connect with her friends, he would do that, too," his widow said.
In December 2006, the family learned Welch had colon cancer spreading into his liver. A month later he had surgery to remove the cancerous tumor. It was roughly the size of a softball, and doctors predicted he wouldn't live more than three months.
"When my parents told me he had cancer, I thought it was just another hurdle we would jump over," Alex said. "We all thought he would beat it. It was crazy to believe that, but we did."
By June 2007, the cancer had spread to his pancreas. When Alex's parents told her the end was likely in sight, she remembers well one of her first reactions: "But you're going to miss me play with Yo-Yo Ma."
With the Yo-Yo Ma performance nearly a year away, the family couldn't deny that may be true. But Welch was determined he would see Alex perform at least once with the Boston Youth Symphony. He insisted on a new suit for the fall concert because he had lost so much weight.
"He had a potbelly, and I could never stick my hands around him when I hugged him," Alex said of her father before the cancer. "When he became sick, he lost 100 pounds — he became a stick figure."
Welch struggled just to stand on his own at the concert. But in his new suit he mustered up energy for a memorable ovation.
"All I remember is him jumping into the center of the aisle and clapping," Alex said. "I mean, this is Symphony Hall. No one does that."
By Dec. 14, 2007, Welch couldn't make it down the steps to the living room. Alex simply did what she did as a child. She moved her music stand to him, next to his bed.
They wouldn't wallow in sadness, Alex said. As a minister and a father, Welch was not afraid of death. The whole family received tremendous support through daily visits from close friends and family members, former congregants, and members of the BYSO organization. Welch's doctor, Sharda Kaul, made weekly house calls.
Alex is doing her best to remain positive now that he's gone. But there are, of course, raw moments.
"I got confirmed last year and got a necklace that has a little box for prayers," Alex said. "So, I rolled up this Post-it note with my prayer, which was to get into (BYS) senior orchestra and that Dad would be OK."
She haphazardly stopped wearing the necklace after she was accepted to the symphony. It's a decision that now brings her to tears.
"I do wish I had worn it more. Maybe some things would have turned out differently," she said, sobbing. "I wished for both to come true. And at least one did, but I just wish that both of them could have come true."
Welch left behind a whimsical list for Alex's life achievements: Attend Harvard, Oxford and even create her own Ivy League institution.
It's a reflection of Alex's own goals. And it doesn't include a career in music. That was an act of enjoyment a father and daughter shared — right to the final days when he would just close his eyes and listen to her play.
"The last song I played for him was a Vivaldi sonata," Alex said. "In a way, the music ... it was something special to him, about me, that the outside world didn't necessarily share."
