Hey hey, what’s good everybody. Welcome back to Why Make Music? I’m your host, DJ Warm Cookies – aka Willa May – and you’re listening to Episode 039, “When The Music Stops.” Today’s episode is a special one. I’ve got ThinkTimm back with me in the studio. We missed you last week, Timm. First and foremost, on behalf of all our listeners, I want to say we’re so sorry for your loss. How you holding up, my friend?
Hey Willa May. Hey everyone. As you all know, my grandmother passed away on June 5th. It’s been, what, just over a week now.
Just over a week. Take your time – we’re in no rush.
My Grandmother had been declining for about six to seven months. A slow, gradual decline – we could see her fading bit by bit. So we were prepared. In some ways, I feel like I started grieving while she was still here, you know? Like anticipatory grief.
Right. You see it coming, but you can’t really ever be ready for that final moment.
Exactly. Even though my logical brain was saying “this is the natural course of life,” the moment she took her last breath... that moment felt like the music just stopped. One minute, there was the rhythm of her breathing, however faint – and then silence.
I can imagine. Were you and your family with her at the end?
Yeah. She wasn’t in pain; she just slipped away. In that sense, it was a relief to see her free from the suffering that had stretched on for months. But it still felt so... final. I remember just listening in the silence after, like wow, she’s really gone.
Thank you for sharing that. I know it’s not easy. And you had a lot on your plate these past months, caring for her.
Yeah. Grandmom, even at 94, still had her sharp wit when she was feeling okay. She’d crack jokes and talk trash about anyone or anything.
Aww, that’s beautiful. What was her name, by the way? I realized I’m calling her “Grandmom” like she’s everyone’s Grandmom
She really was everyone’s grandma in a way. Her name was Emma Delores – but to me she was just Grandmom or Grum to my kids. And she was the oldest on left of our family. Her Mother was Willie Mae. Sounds familiar? Strong, independent lady. Very practical-minded, too.
Damn Yeah I remember that. I remember you mentioning that. And that practicality kind of you. My name sake her mother.
She was always clear about what she wanted when her time came. She didn’t want a big, traditional funeral or “home going” ceremony. Her wish was to be cremated and – this was the part that’s caused some drama – she did not want a funeral service at all. No viewing, no formal memorial, nothing.
That’s definitely nontraditional, especially in African-American culture. A lot of our elders expect a home going celebration – you know, the whole church service, the choir, the repast with all the family and community gathered
Exactly. In our cculture, a funeral isn’t just for the deceased – it’s for the living to come together, grieve, celebrate, support each other. So, when we honored Grandma’s wishes and didn’t hold a funeral or memorial service, some of the family were... let’s say, not pleased.
I can imagine the tension. What kind of pushback did you get?
Oh, there were definitely some heated phone calls and text messages from what I hear. A few relatives – cousins, seem as though– felt it was “disrespectful” not to have any service. it’s like, “You’re robbing us of the chance to say goodbye properly.”But she been heading down hill for literally six months.Thats plenty of time to pay one’s respects.
People felt like they needed that ritual to get closure?
Right,I do’t know, that was a big part of it. They felt that without a funeral, they couldn’t get closure or pay their respects. And I do understand that. Funerals and rituals give people a sense of finality, a way to say that last goodbye in a structured way. Plus, there’s the aspect of having a place or a moment to focus your grief. One relative said to me, “We don’t even have a grave or a place to visit her and feel close” For them, it’s like something’s missing.
That sense of place can be important – a grave, an urn, a memorial site – it can help some folks channel their mourning. And you know, there’s a psychological aspect to it: I read somewhere that mourning rituals offer comfort because they provide constancy when everything else feels uncertain. They connect us to centuries of tradition, reminding us that people before us went through this and carried on. So I totally get why your cousins would crave that.
Absolutely. ha ha Humans, by nature, find comfort in rituals and traditions. It’s like a shared language of grief. And here we were kind of breaking that pattern. Honestly, it made me feel a little crazy at first. I questioned myself, “Am I doing a disservice to the rest of the family by not organizing something?”
That’s tough – balancing your grandmother’s personal wishes against your family’s emotional needs.
It is. But you know, I keep coming back to what my Grandmom wanted. This was her wish. She didn’t want us to “make a fuss.” In fact, a while ago she told me straight up: “When I go, just cremate me and keep it simple. I don’t want people gawking at me in a box.” That was her take on it. She even joked, “I’ll be mad at y’all from heaven if you waste money on a big fancy funeral!” – that was her humor and pragmatism talking.
Sounds like her. Some older folks really feel that way. They don’t want their family to go through the whole drawn-out mourning scene or spend a ton of money. I read an article recently that said more families of color are choosing cremation now, often because the person requested it – sometimes to spare their loved ones the pain of seeing them in a casket
I saw that too. It mentioned how even in the Black community, which traditionally favored burials and big funerals, cremation is on the rise. It said something like over half of Americans choose cremation these days, and our community is slowly embracing that change. Grandma was actually ahead of the curve there. She didn’t want us to remember her looking frail or made-up in a coffin. She wanted us to remember her living – vibrant.
That’s a good point – remembering people as they were in life. And honestly, when I think about it, funerals can be traumatic in their own way. I still have a hard time with the memory of seeing my own loved ones in a casket. It’s a blessing and a curse – it’s the last image, and it can stick in your mind.
Exactly. My Grandmom knew that. She had this very logical side – which I think I inherited – and she just felt it was unnecessary. She literally said to me, “I won’t be there to enjoy it, so don’t you do it.” In her mind, once she’s gone, she’s gone – celebrate her while she’s here, but no need for pomp and circumstance.
So how did you and your mom handle those relatives? I’m sure it was tricky. Did you consider holding some kind of memorial compromise?
We talked about it. We even floated the idea of a small gathering or “celebration of life” later on, once emotions settle. But me and my mom – were adamant about honoring my Grandmother instructions to the letter. We are not the most social people, we both always have household and day to day life things to do. My Mother is the younger of two children, but she's strong and focused. We followed her my Grandmother's wishes and we were cool with it. Her brother, my uncle, was also really close with his mother and he understood her wishes. He did have concerns about some sort of service. But when we talk about it, I was like (you can honor her in our own way. If you want). My uncle is more interactive with the extended family members. You know they are all cousin and grow up together. I think it would coo, if he would have a party or cookout in memory of his mother, my grandmother. You know invite extended family that he socializes with, share stories and memories. The would be cool. It just not what my grandmother said she wanted. She seemed like her point of view, was you can do whatever you want, but I don't want these certain things which were a burial and funeral service. It sounded like a plan to me, but what do I know i'm not an expert.
That’s real. You won’t please everyone in these situations. Grief can make every decision emotional. And in a close-knit African-American family, deviating from tradition can feel almost like a betrayal to some. thank goodness that ain’t the case here.
I think eventually the others will come to understand, even if they don’t fully agree. Besides how long can people really talk about funerals and services before it just becomes odd? In all honesty it's a done deal it this point.
Right. That’s a ritual too, in its own way, even if it’s not a traditional funeral. Sometimes creating new rituals is how we cope when the old ones don’t fit.
That’s so true. In fact, even without an official ceremony, we’ve been finding our own ways to mourn and celebrate her. My mom and I have talked about her constantly, my brother and nephew hang with my mother all the time. she has the love and support she needs.
And you know, that’s culturally aware too – because Black funerals, at their core, are about community, storytelling, music, food, all of that. You did those things, just in a nontraditional setting. The format was different, but the heart of it was the same.
I hadn’t thought of it like that, but you’re right. We did uphold the spirit a party. We had a get together for Syrus, graduation from high school the past weekend in the mist of all of this. It was a celebration for a different reason there was food and beverages My brother and nephew come through... well wishes and kind word were share by those in attendance But like I said we are moving forward. The food is always on point Lisa, my wife can cook and prepare for an event. It just so happened that it just wasn’t a celebration of life but a fun graduation party. 
Yes! Food is healing, I don’t care what anyone says. And shout-out to Lisa for holding it down. She’s amazing. How’s she been through all this?
My wife is cool and a like her,just as much as I love her.which is more important than loving her. Her perspective on all this has been so helpful. She nudges me to do the right thing, because I’m extremely at times detached and analytical and focused on moving forward. I figure everyone deals with things the way I do and her approach s like a public relations department when it comes to me dealing with the outside world. She fully understood honoring our Grandmother’s request. She actual made sure that I clarified with my mom and Uncle Stretch several times leading up to my Grandmother's passing. She is always making sure that reach out to my mom in general. She has been so supportive: and we both share the approach to get the job done. She nicer in her methods though. My Grandmother loves her so much. I find that I had taken the low ranking spot behind the wife and kid, but possible just above the pets. She’s been there 100%. She lead the caregiving for our grandmother. I followed her lead She’s got this compassion thing that balances the fact that i don't. I'm more task driven.
I love that. And it sounds like your household has a really beautiful dynamic. You’ve got this multicultural, multigenerational thing going on – Black, white, young, old, all under one roof or close by.
We do. Our home in Elkins Park is a little microcosm of the world. It’s me (I’m Black), Lisa (she’s white), our two kids who are a blend of both, Uncle E who basically a secret agent… he my best friend since we were kids, slash bother aka Microphone Mover 101 and we have the two dogs. From time to time there are deer in backyard on the hill, but currently we have two foxes out there The Fantastic Mr Fox) keeping the dogs on the toes. Everyday is like television show... there a cold opening and then opening credits, everyone gets into there events for the day, we touch base throughout the day. Sometime episode plot overlap, but most things are resolved by the end of the evening and the closing credits roll and we start again the next day. It’s all love.
That sounds like a sitcom, in the best way. And honestly, that diversity in your household probably gives your kids such a rich perspective. They get to experience both Black and Caucasian family traditions and stories.
Definitely. We celebrate everything. We’ll do Christmas with a tree and get togethers and gifts Lisa’s family comes over regularly and hangs out, She’s great and we play board games and have a good time. We do all the commercials holidays. My kids are growing up knowing there’s more than one way to do things – and that’s okay.
And that played into this situation too. Because part of my extended family’s tension about no funeral is cultural, and part of it is just personal preference. But having seen both sides, I realize there’s no one “right” way to grieve or to commemorate someone. Our way might not be traditional African-American funeral protocol, but it was true to our family and my Grandmother
That’s whats up. Every family is different, and every loss is different. There’s a term I’ve heard: “nontraditional grief.” I think it fits here. It’s still grief – it’s just not following the usual script people expect.
I agree. And speaking of scripts (no pun intended), you know I tend to approach even emotions from a kind of logical angle. It’s just how my brain works. I’m a science and tech person at heart. So my way of grieving might look nontraditional too. Like, I haven’t been wailing or deeply distraught outwardly. I didn’t feel the need to wear black for a month or anything like that.
Instead, I find myself processing it by thinking a lot. I have more time to think about topic, on the cycle of life and death. Reading a bit about what different cultures do, even the science of grief – you know me, I’ll read psychology articles about how mourning rituals help people cope
That’s true, you’re always researching something, even in moment that should be downtime. And there’s nothing wrong with that – everyone copes in their own way.
Do you ever feel like your logical approach clashes with others’ need for faith or spiritual comfort? Like, were there moments you had to sort of bridge that gap?
Oh, absolutely. I mean, I’m not particularly religious. I lean agnostic, logical. I didn’t find myself saying “she’s in a better place” or imagining her in heaven looking down, because my mind just doesn’t automatically go there. But a lot of my family does take comfort in those ideas – my mom and uncle “I know she’s up there with relatives smiling down on us.” I don’t necessarily share the exact belief, but I respect it. I didn’t argue or say “well actually, scientifically...” – no, that would be awful. I just listened because I know that’s their way of showing love and finding peace.
That’s very considerate. You didn’t let your personal views get in the way of receiving the intent behind their words.
Exactly. And even I found myself doing something kind of... outside my norm. The night after she passed, I found myself in the room that was hers, sitting in the recliner chilling. Looking at all that is left from 94 years on this Earth contained in a sixteen by sixteen bedroom. It still had her scent. Not the I’m old and sick scent But the smell of my Grandmother. The smell of her belongings and the scent of her apartment that traveled into her living space that we recreated to be a miniature version of her apartment that she had to unwillingly give up .Now logically, did I think about her life, and missing her? Did I want her to still be alive? It’s a tough question because, My Grandmother was no longer the woman she once was. Parts were there but the majority of her was gone for the past six months. We haven’t gone through all of her belongings. The only thing missing from the room, beside her is the bed. She had a hospital bed that she hated. It was a rentals and that was picked up the day after her passing. It felt like I was honoring the connection we still have, even if she’s not physically here.
That’s really beautiful, Timm. Sometimes the most logical folks still find themselves doing things of the heart, not the mind. And that’s okay – it’s human.
It is. I know that grief isn’t something you can just think your way through entirely. There’s no algorithm to solve it. You’ve got to feel it. And if part of me needs to light a candle or talk to my grandmother’s memory now and then, that doesn’t make me any less logical. I doubt if I would do that though. It just makes me a grandson who misses her.
Right. It’s a balance. And finding that balance is part of what this episode is about: how we each deal with loss in our own way, and how that’s tied into culture, family, personality, all of it.
Yeah. And also – since our show is called “Why Make Music…” – I’ve been reflecting on how music plays into this. Like, why make music when you’re grieving? Or how does music help when the music of life stops, so to speak?
I’m glad you brought that up, because I wanted to ask: Have you found yourself turning to music through all this? Either listening or creating?
Honestly, yes. You know me – music is my therapy. In the days after My Grandmom passed, I would down to my home studio and dig in. Revamping tracks and reworking ideas. My mind is clear. I used to spend time worrying about her comfort, was she eating enough, getting fluids. Making sure she was repositioned. Finding things for her to watch on the television which was most likely Judge Judy, Judy Justice or the Game show network. She knew I spent my free time making music and I would come upstairs and share some ideas with her and let her listen to new tracks. It was one of the ways I shared my music with her. But this last week after her passing, I have been super productive.
That’s amazing. You created something out of your grief – that’s one of the purest reasons why we make music, isn’t it? To express what words can’t.
It is. Music goes where words can’t. it’s very personal – but maybe one day I will write a song about her, who knows.
If you do, I’m sure it’ll resonate with a lot of people. Grief is such a universal experience. And hearing it translated into melody can be incredibly comforting to others going through similar things.
I hope so. Teddy Pendergrass will have a new place in my heart now. Dude was a sex symbol to older chicks. I see the appeal both my mom and Grandmother dug that cat. he used to have all female concerts. I know they went to a few shows. Thats why it hard for me to super sad and depress. I been told so many crazy thing from my grandmother. she had a fun life.
That's whay you must hold on to those memories. Everyone deals with death in different ways. You seem like you are leaning in to the good spirit and fun person your grandmother was or still is. Its hard to phrase things. What was present is now past?
Exactly. In African-American funerals, for instance, music is huge – those gospel songs are both an expression of grief and a source of strength. Even though we didn’t have a church service for my Grandmother, it’s not what she wanted. She wanted us to continue our lives. For me it was to continue, Why Make Music… the podcast. Continue working on our next project.
It sounds like it. And it underscores something: even when “the music stops” in terms of a life ending, the music of living keeps going – through memories, through songs, through the love that’s still here.
That’s a perfect way to put it, Willa May. The music of living keeps going. I’ve been thinking about the title of this episode, “When The Music Stops.” When you lose someone, it can feel like the soundtrack of your life goes silent for a while. But then, slowly, you start to hear it again – maybe in a new way. You hear their melody in the background of your days. You pick up instruments of coping – whether it’s faith, family, creativity – and you find a new rhythm.
Yes. The track changes, but it doesn’t end. Maybe it turns into a remix with their memory woven into your life’s song.
I love that. A remix of life that includes their harmony. I definitely feel Grandmom’s harmony in my life was crazy and sometimes to real, but when I’m working on music, I can hear her saying, “You were in the basement, doing music? What can’t you do?.” Those things stay with you.
She’s part of you, so in a way her music never stops.
That’s right. And that thought gives me a lot of peace.

Before we wrap up, I want to say to our listeners: if you’ve lost someone, or when you inevitably do – because we all do at some point – know that it’s okay to grieve in whatever way feels right to you. Traditional or nontraditional, religious or secular, loud or quiet. There’s no single “correct” way to mourn. What matters is that you allow yourself to feel and heal, and hopefully find something – be it music, community, prayer, or just silence – that brings you comfort.
Absolutely. This episode has been heavy, but it’s also been healing to talk it out. Thank you, Willa, for guiding this conversation with so much heart. And thanks to everyone listening for giving me the space to share.
To answer the question “Why Make Music?” in this context – we make music because it helps us process life’s hardest moments. We make music to honor those we love. We make music to keep the memories alive.
Mhmm. And we listen to music for the same reasons.
Exactly. And if I can leave a closing thought... it’s this: Losing someone dear is like a song ending unexpectedly – it can leave you in silence. But you can press play again. You find a new song to carry in your heart. In many ways, my grandmother’s song is still playing through me, through my mom, through my kids. It didn’t really stop; it just changed form.
The music never truly dies. It lives on in us.
It does. So even when the music stops... keep humming. Keep that soul music in your heart. Because that’s how we continue on – that’s how we continue the music after a loved one’s passing.
Beautifully said, ThinkTimm. Beautiful.
Alright, everybody – thank you for tuning in to this deeply personal episode of Why Make Music? We hope our conversation today resonated with you, maybe even helped someone out there who’s going through a loss. Remember, you’re not alone, and it’s okay to grieve your way.
We’ll be back next time with, hopefully, a lighter topic and more of our usual creative banter. And you know Grandma wouldn’t want me moping around – she’d be the first to tell me to get up, get back to creating. So I will, and we will.
That’s right. The beat goes on, my friends. The beat goes on.
Thank you for listening to Episode 039: When The Music Stops. If you enjoyed this or it touched you in some way, do us a favor and hug your loved ones a little tighter tonight. Maybe play a special song in honor of someone you miss.
But,before go let’s hit y’all with the shout outs. You already know the vibe – WDMN Nation, this one’s for you. ThinkTimm brand in full effect. You can follow us everywhere: Instagram @whymakemusic, @ThinkTimm, @djwarmcookies Facebook @ThinkTimm, @wdmnation, ThinkTimm on SoundCloud, Blue Sky @thinktimm, all streaming platforms, all podcast apps. And yes, we’re keeping it going with the new series: "Why Make Music: The Producers" – profiling the architects of the sound from Tay Keith to WondaGurl, Jack Antonoff to Sly Stone.
Yup. All that. But today, we’re slowing it down and being honest about something every human goes through – loss. When Grandma passed, we honored her wishes. She asked not to have a funeral. She wanted to be cremated, kept it simple, and that’s what we did. But that shook some folks up, especially in the Black community where a big home going is tradition.
Exactly. In our culture, a funeral isn’t just about the deceased. It’s about the living. It’s closure. It’s community. It’s song, sermon, and soul food. So when you don’t do that, it raises questions. But not every family fits the mold.
And my family? We’re diverse. My wife Lisa is white. Our kids are multicultural. My mom Donna is African-American. My household is held together by science, logic, awareness of peoples religious beliefs and faith…most importantly love. In my home we respect faith, but we don’t practice organized religion. My grandmother and my Mother are religious and my grandmother’s choice to skip the ceremony wasn’t rejection. It was a personal decision grounded in clarity. Clarity that at 94 years on this planet, she has outlived the vast majority of her friends, close relatives and mates. My Grandmother just wanted to be at rest. No parade, no service… In her old age of wisdom she figured that when she was gone, she was gone.
Why worry us with the unnecessary. It made sense to me.
And when the extended family wanted a service and y’all said no?
We said, "Feel free to honor her however you like." But we already did what felt right. Quietly. In peace. In my household we talked about for months and my Mother and I talked about how it was going to affect us, and how we were living her slow passing for months. When the day came, of course there was emotion, but there was also understanding.That was the send-off. That was an end of an era. The next part of life was to continue. I say continue, because the world around us didn’t stop.
So today, we talked about nontraditional grief. About finding your own rhythm when the usual rituals don’t apply. Whether you mourn with gospel choirs or lo-fi beats, it’s all love.
Because when the music stops, it’s just an interlude. We still got more tracks left. Grandmom’s songs are still playing like Teddy Pendergrass yelling “Turn off the Lights” , Michael McDonald and other folks like Nancy Wilson, The Whispers or even Miles Davis. Through my mom, ,my Uncle Stretch, through my kids. Through me the music plays on.
So for everyone grieving right now – in your way, in your time – we see you. There’s no single playlist for pain. Just make sure your soundtrack stays true.
And remember y’all, we make music to hold the moments. To carry the ones we lost. To remind ourselves that silence isn’t the end – it’s just a pause before the next chorus.
This has been Why Make Music? Episode 039: "When The Music Stops." WDMN, ThinkTimm, DJ Warm Cookies, Willa May. Find us everywhere. And if you’re looking for meaning after loss? Maybe it’s time to hit play again.
Peace, love, and thank you for listening. Remember we hold memories good ones, bad ones… they are all what one chooses to make of them. I choose to make them all part of my life, my down load, my upgrade. Peace agin and be wild.
We’ll catch y’all on the next one. Keep the music going. Always.