Breathing Gratitude Into the Music That Raised Us

I’ve been letting this settle slowly, the way the best truths do.

As the news moved through our Jam family and emotions rose everywhere…

Tears, disbelief, that familiar ache of endings; what I felt most strongly was gratitude.

Deep, steady, unmistakable gratitude.

Not the kind that bypasses feeling, the kind that holds it with reverence.

I keep returning to Bob Weir as a life offered in devotion to the music, with an influence that keeps unfolding.

Not frozen in one era. Not defined by a single chapter. A man who kept choosing to carry the music forward…

Again and again; allowing it to grow, shift, and breathe with time.

Of course there was the Grateful Dead, where so many of us first felt the door open. But Bobby never stayed in one place. He let the sound evolve. Through Dead & Company, he created a bridge between generations, between past and present. Inviting new listeners into the circle without ever diluting its soul. And through projects like Bob Weir & Wolf Bros, he showed another side of his profound devotion: stripped down, intimate, rooted.

Different expressions. Same heartbeat.

I wouldn’t be here without my lifelong best friend, Lisa. She’s the one who handed me this music before I knew what it would become in my life. Because of her, I found myself at my first show in Hamilton in 1992. Young, wide open, unaware that something ancient and communal was quietly threading itself into my bones.

That night wasn’t just a concert. It was an initiation.

For many, the music became a companion. A teacher. A place where listening mattered more than certainty. Where presence was everything.

This year felt like a culmination. Standing at GD60 knowing that this could be Bobby’s final show-carried a weight I didn’t fully understand. Until now.

I almost didn’t go. Life, logistics, hesitation hovered. I am so profoundly grateful that I listened to the deeper pull and showed up.

I took my final photo of Bobby onstage that night. I didn’t know it would be “final” when I lifted the lens, but something in me knew it mattered. I share that image with you, not as a keepsake, but as a moment of witnessing. Of gratitude made visible.

A gentle reminder to Bobby’s truest fans…

Behind every life lived in service to the world is a family who holds the quieter realities.

I want to gently and with the utmost respect, acknowledge Bobby’s family. I’ve only personally met his daughter Chloe, who shared him not only with us, but with the spaces in between tours and stages. There is a particular strength in loving someone whose calling belongs to so many.

If you find yourself struggling, there’s a Tibetan meditation I practice called Tonglen. At its heart, it’s very simple. You breathe in what is heavy. You breathe out what is healing. No fixing. No forcing. Just presence and love.

So this is my invitation to our Jam family.

If grief is moving through you, let it come. Breathe it in softly. And as you exhale, send gratitude… For the music that held us when we didn’t yet know how to hold ourselves. For the years Bobby stood at the center of this strange, beautiful continuum and kept the pulse alive. For the way the songs kept changing without losing their truth.

For the past that shaped us, the present that holds us, and the music that carries on. For The Dead.

They were never just about music. They were about learning how to listen. How to gather. How to trust what unfolds when we stay present.

That teaching doesn’t end.

It lives in us now.

In how we show up.

In how we choose gratitude.

In how the music keeps playing…

Inside our hearts. Inside the memories at the shows we were blessed to experience. The beauty-full moments between shows and the friends we made along the golden road…

From my heart to yours, Joy

PS: Please share your thoughts and prayers.