Many people know that Eric Clapton, now 79, endured one of the most painful losses imaginable when his young son died in a tragic accident. But few realize that before the heartbreaking event, Clapton had made one final promise to his little boy—a promise he never got the chance to keep.
“If I hadn’t checked the fax, he’d still be alive”
Clapton’s life changed forever on March 20, 1991, when his four-year-old son, Conor, fell to his death from a 53rd-floor apartment window in New York City. Conor had been staying with his mother, Italian actress Lory Del Santo. A housekeeper had just finished cleaning when the unthinkable happened. The window had been left open, and Conor, full of energy and curiosity, ran past it. In an instant, he was gone.
“The window had been left open. Eric was on his way to pick Conor up,” Lory later said. “I heard the fax machine and went to check it before going to see what Conor was doing. I walked in just a moment too late. He had already fallen. If I hadn’t checked the fax, he’d still be alive.”
Conor was only weeks away from turning five. When Clapton, who was in another part of New York, got the call, he rushed to the scene. “When I told Eric what had happened, he froze solid,” Lory said. “It was like he couldn’t move or speak. When Conor died, the relationship between Eric and me died, too.”
Their last day together
At the time, Clapton and Lory were no longer a couple. She had full custody of Conor, but the two had traveled to New York so the boy could spend Easter with his father. On March 19, the day before the tragedy, Clapton had taken Conor to the circus on Long Island. It was their first full day spent together, just father and son.
Clapton had eagerly bought the tickets himself, excited to make special memories. Biographer Philip Norman, in Slowhand: The Life and Music of Eric Clapton, wrote, “That sawdust-scented afternoon showed him what he’d been missing.”
When they returned, Conor couldn’t stop talking about the elephants and clowns. Overjoyed, Clapton told Lory that he wanted to be a real father from then on. He even planned to move her and Conor to London so they could live as a family. He had promised to take Conor to the Bronx Zoo the next day and have lunch afterward at an Italian restaurant.
But that morning, as Lory got ready and Conor played happily nearby, tragedy struck. The dream of rebuilding a family vanished in seconds.
Grief and isolation
Clapton was shattered. In the days that followed, he brought Conor’s body back to England with Lory and her family for the funeral. The little boy was laid to rest in Ripley, Surrey—Clapton’s hometown, where he had grown up.
After the funeral, overwhelmed by grief, Clapton retreated from the world. He went to Antigua, renting a small cottage where he spent almost a year in near isolation. “I had this little Spanish guitar, and I just played it all day,” he said. “I stayed there almost a whole year without much contact with anyone. I was trying to heal myself.”
Music became his only escape. He poured his pain into it, playing and rewriting songs over and over, searching for a way to breathe again. “All I could do was play and write,” he said. “I re-wrote and re-performed them again and again until I felt like I could finally reach the surface.”
A letter that arrived too late
In time, Clapton turned his sorrow into something lasting. He co-wrote Tears in Heaven with songwriter Will Jennings, originally for a film soundtrack. The song became one of his most personal works—a raw expression of loss and a way to keep Conor’s memory alive.
But even amid his grief, one moment broke him all over again. Just days before his death, Conor had written his very first letter to his dad. With Lory’s help, he had carefully printed a few words: “I love you.” They mailed it to Clapton’s London home.
The letter arrived after Conor’s funeral. Lory later recalled, “After we came back to London, I was there when Eric opened his mail. He found the envelope and read Conor’s letter. It was the first thing he had ever written to his father. That is a moment I will never forget.”
That simple letter—three little words from a child to his father—became a symbol of love, loss, and the promise Clapton could never fulfill. It also became the quiet heartbeat behind one of the most haunting songs ever written, born from the pain of a father who would never stop loving his son.