Mum
It's been a quiet period for The Free Folk Project of late, but we'd like to take this opportunity to update you all.
As you may be aware, Danny travelled to the UK recently to be by his mum's side, and on 3rd July, she passed away peacefully in his arms. At the service later that month, Danny stood up to honour his mum, and we'd like to invite you to watch the video above and read the eulogy he wrote, shared below - in the hopes that it'll bring comfort to those going through a similar situation, and to celebrate the beautiful being that was Danny's mum.
The Free Folk Project will be returning to its fuller offering in the coming weeks, with MYGA, TruthWorks and more on the way. Danny is also returning to his conversation with Oracle Girl - a continuation of their earlier talk, sharing where he's at now and exploring how to deal with the raw pain of grief and the myriad of emotions that accompany it. More details can be found below.
With love,
The Free Folk Team ♥
Our Mum
The song you just heard is so poignant when remembering our mum. When we were dealing with adversity we would we put it on full whack and march around together.
The lyrics “to fight for the right without question or pause, to be willing to march into hell for a heavenly cause” – they define my mum perfectly.
The woman was such a powerful being. When Mum and my old man went their separate ways, we moved away from the support of the family and grew up in some pretty rough places.
Mum was only a little lady of 5ft4, soft face, sweet Bristolian voice, but when she was defending her boys, she had a temper like Mike Tyson. And defend us she did, because we were always getting into bother. The toughest kids in our area were absolutely petrified of her. She’d arrived in the melee of whatever chaos we were causing and explode into this sacred fury, which she kept especially for bailing us out. A real lioness.
No wonder she was so talented in her career of helping young people, because we so kindly gave her so many opportunities.
One time, by no fault of my own, I found myself in a stolen car and as wise older brothers do – I decided to take my younger brother for a spin. Needless to say we got nicked. When we arrived at the police station, the custody sergeant asked me if I wanted to inform my parents and having just turned 18 I politely declined, not realising they’d inform my mum about my younger brother. My mum walked into the police station and up on the board it said Cell 1: BEDFORD and Cell 3: BEDFORD.
My mum said “by any chance is that my other son?”
Which, if not, would’ve been quite the coincidence.
I heard talking outside my cell, to my terror I heard my mum’s voice. The door swung open and there she stood, eyes blazing with fury. In she came and I remember the copper smirking over her shoulder at my impending punishment. Truth be told, she gave me one hell of a bollocking. And yet very quickly she shifted from being angry to wanting to help.
For the next few hours she went back n forth from my cell to my brothers making sure our stories were perfectly aligned, painting us into a perfect portrait of naïve innocence. We got off Scott-free. That was mum. No matter what we’d done she always defended us.
When my twin girls were born, I got the call from Hanne at half-two in the morning to come straight to the hospital because her waters had broken. I leapt out of bed. After a quick shower I opened the bathroom door and there Mum was standing. “I’m coming with you”.
She spent the next 20 odd hours in the hospital by our side. The twins were born very prematurely and the nurses said please don’t touch them, but when she got the chance, she was stroking them to let them know she was there. Mum always set fire to the rulebook with fierce, fiery love. She was a beautiful Nan-Nan, so good we named her twice. So playful and fun with our babies.
One of the most special parts of mum was her sense of humour. She’d laugh at some of the most controversial, politically incorrect things that shot out of my mouth, and yet still maintain utter compassion for the subject.
I used to love winding her up and surprising her. I spent a year in Thailand and never told her I was coming home, one day I walked into her packed office and casually sat next to her until she noticed. She let out a shriek and said “oh my heart” laughing her head off.
Not long ago, Mum thought I was in Spain. We orchestrated a surprise at Brighton Pier in the pissing down rain and blustery wind. Mum looking at Jeff like he’d lost the plot for taking her to Brighton Pier in Baltic conditions. I hid on the pier and crept up behind her, she looked at me once and looked away before looking again and screaming “that’s my son” and in playful anger she burst into laughter.
Mum always wanted a laugh. Such an animated and expressive being, who no matter what life threw at her would always find the joy. An absolute beacon of positivity, even in the darkest hour.
And man did she care. She cared so much about the vulnerable of our world. She wanted to help everyone. I don’t think I’ve ever heard her judge anyone or put anyone down. She had some choice words to say about politicians and big business, but that was always justified.
No matter what was going on, she’d constantly remind us that we could be anything and do anything.
An incredibly dignified and proper woman was our mum. For me, that is why she chose to leave so abruptly because, in her own words she “didn’t want to live half a life.”
Such an inflicting disease done it’s best to destroy her, to make her weak, make her a victim and like all the other adversity that woman faced – once again she decided to break-free and fly.
How many times when we were young she would say, in her down to earth, humble way – when I die, just burn me in the garden.
Words can’t describe how heartbroken we are and how much we will miss our beautiful dear Der Mumas. But trust me when I say – my mum would be furious if we allowed our grief to manifest into negativity. And that’s the thing about loss, about heart-breaking grief – we have two choices at the end of the day. We can turn away from the pain and watch it wrap our hearts in barbedwire or we can turn towards it and invite the sorrow to break our hearts wide open and in the void plant seeds of kindness, compassion and empathy, so pain can be transmuted into love.
For is that not what life’s purpose is? To melt the ice around our hearts, so through us, mankind gets closer to love.
That’s what our mum would want. She’d want us to integrate the wisdom, the profundity, the strength of who she was into us, so we may live a life of joy and happiness, fuelled by her beautiful qualities, to celebrate every single day on this earth in memory of a woman who was one of a kind. A total earth angel.
It's okay to grieve, to miss that incredible being, to be heartbroken, because God knows I am.
But know not to worry about her – because she has gone home and the bits that couldn’t travel with her have dissolved into the hearts of those who loved her - so we may live our lives held in her loving presence, and be the people she always believed we would be.
To be wise, funny, powerful, compassionate, brave and loving beings – just like her.
It has been an absolute honour being your son Mum and I vow to live the rest of my life in becoming the best version of myself possible – just as you would’ve wanted.
I invite you all to do the same.
I love you Mum.
Oracle Girl
A Talk With Dear Danny
Friday, 21 August 2026
How to deal with the pain of grief?
What does it all really mean when a loved one passes and you feel so raw and utterly heartbroken? How do we make sense of death and the strong feelings of love, cruelty, pointlessness and questioning everything?