A Note From Uncle Tatt – Where I’ve Been

Between the Notes has always been about honesty — about music, about mental health, about showing up as human.

So I need to say this plainly.

On December 15 2025, a freak accident on the farm took the life of my partner, Neil — my Tay — after 24 years together. A bolt of dry lightning.

More than half my life.

My best friend.

My home.

I performed CPR over 30 minutes until help arrived.

I did everything I could.

And it still wasn’t enough.

That moment doesn’t stay in the past.It lives in my body.

Every time I try to sleep, I’m back there.

Every time I close my eyes or breathe, I feel ribs breaking beneath my hands.

Every time I try to eat, I remember counting compressions and my stomach turns.

Every time I look outside, I see the place where everything ended.

This isn’t just grief.

It’s trauma.

And trauma doesn’t care about schedules, content calendars, or being “strong.”

Since then, life hasn’t just changed — it’s shattered and rearranged itself in ways I’m still trying to understand. Grief isn’t a straight line. Trauma doesn’t ask permission. Some days I can function. Most days I can’t step outside without being pulled back into that moment.

So if BTN feels quieter… slower… different — this is why.

There are days I can’t listen to music without breaking.

Days I can’t write.

Days where just being here is the work.

And yet — I’m still here.

Because Neil believed in this space.

He believed in Between the Notes.

He believed that music could hold people when words fail.

Right now, BTN isn’t running at full speed — but it isn’t gone.

It’s breathing. Healing.

Learning how to exist in a world that lost someone irreplaceable.

If you’ve sent messages, love, or support and I haven’t replied — please know it’s not from lack of gratitude. It’s because grief is loud, exhausting, and relentless. Your kindness still reaches me. I feel it, even when I can’t respond.

This chapter of BTN may be quieter, heavier, more tender — but it’s still real. And when I can, I’ll keep showing up.

For the music.

For the people.

For him.

If you’re struggling too — if loss, trauma, or life has knocked the breath out of you — you’re not broken.

No matter how broken we feel.

You’re human. And you’re not alone here.

Right now, this chapter is slower.

Heavier. More tender.

But it’s real.

And real is all I have to offer.

If this piece brings things up for you, please reach out — to someone you trust, or to professional support where you live. You deserve help. You deserve care. You deserve to stay.

I’m still here.

BTN is still here.

Learning how to breathe again — one moment at a time. 🖤

Thank you for holding space while I learn how to live in a world with an empty chair opposite me. While I try to find some joy in this world

With love,

Uncle Tatt 🖤