Remembering my mother - Shay

My mother died this week, and I am in the early stages of an overwhelming amount of grief and pain. It has put a huge spanner in the works with everything I do, especially when it comes to music.

I recently spoke to a psychologist who gave me advice I already knew: talk to friends, stay occupied, and use resources such as counselling apps. I realised that I am currently running out of resources to help me through this. Despite having wonderful online and offline friends, and access to phone counselling services, I am also beginning to understand that some parts of grief are something I have to face alone.

Remembering Mum

My mother loved to be called Shay, short for Shannon. My grandfather was one of the first people to start using the name. Mum was my anchor, my home and my absolute best friend. We were incredibly close. She didn't just raise me—she truly looked out for me. She was the one person I could bring everything to, my safest space and my truest confidant.

She wore her heart right on her sleeve. She loved deeply, and she worried just as deeply because she cared so much. That was simply who she was. Her kindness wasn't just a trait; it was how she moved through the world. She had an incredible capacity for empathy—for people, animals and nature. She loved the quiet beauty of the world around her, and she taught me how to see it too. More than that, she taught me how to feel empathy. Through the way she lived every day, she showed me what it truly means to be kind.

Symptoms of Grief

Grief affects far more than our emotions. It can impact our mind, body and everyday life, bringing sadness, numbness, anger, guilt, anxiety, loneliness and sudden waves of emotion. It can cause brain fog, forgetfulness, difficulty concentrating, loss of motivation and a feeling of functioning on autopilot. Physically, grief can leave you exhausted, restless or unable to sleep, and may affect your appetite and digestion. You might withdraw from people, struggle with everyday tasks or lose interest in things you normally enjoy, including work and creativity. Grief can also bring strange experiences, such as dreaming about the person, expecting them to walk through the door, briefly thinking you've heard their voice or feeling their presence.

Most importantly, grief isn't linear. You can feel devastated one moment and laugh the next. Those moments of happiness don't mean you miss them any less; they simply mean you're human.

I have spent a lot of time trying to stick to my routines and return to my projects, but I keep finding myself loading up my DAW and not getting very far. I sit there like a zombie, screaming on the inside, still struggling to accept the loss. At the same time, I'm trying to look after my grieving stepfather. No matter how much I know about grief or how much I've been told about what to expect, the depth of Mum's absence keeps hitting me in waves.

I miss her so much already. I'm going to miss everything about her—her laugh, those long phone conversations where we'd talk about everything and nothing at all, and our quiet coffee dates where time seemed to slow down.

Most of all, I will miss her hugs.

R.I.P Mum XOXOXO

Shay aka Mum on her Birthday July 18th 2026