Prince Kaybee opens up: the unexpected truth about grief that everyone needs to hear

As the festive season draws closer, when family homes glow with festive lights and laughter, it’s also a time when the absence of loved ones we’ve lost hits especially hard.

For Prince Kaybee, that absence has become painfully real. The South African music producer lost his mother this September and has since been candid about how deeply the loss has affected him. 

In recent posts on X, Kaybee pushed back against the idea that grief can be controlled or neatly scheduled. “The idea that you will be able to control grief is absurd,” he wrote.

When asked how he’s been coping, he didn’t hide away. “I broke down during a business meeting yesterday, so yeah,” he responded. His words touched on a reality many avoid admitting: grief doesn’t operate on a timeline, and it doesn’t wait for convenience.

Grief touches everyone differently. Experts note that it’s a natural response to losing someone close, but it can bring intense sadness, numbness, anger, guilt or a strange kind of emptiness.

It can affect your body as much as your mind: disrupting sleep, changing appetite, draining your energy, or making everyday tasks feel heavier than they used to. Sometimes grief fades a little with time, but for many people, the ache never fully disappears. You just learn to live alongside it. 

My own mother once shared that she lost her mother at the age of 21, and even now, well into her later years, she still grieves. At first, that scared me. The idea that you never truly get over losing your mother feels heavy and unsettling.

How do you prepare yourself for a life where a part of you is always aching? Yet stories like Kaybee’s, and the conversations they stir, force reflection on how universal this experience really is.

I’m reminded of a quote by Andrew Garfield, which captures this feeling with quiet honesty: “That sadness is kind of a gift. It’s kind of a lovely thing to feel, in a way, because it means you really loved somebody when you miss them.

"And when I miss someone, when I miss my mom, I remember all of the cuddles I used to get from her, all of the hugs I used to get from her. It makes me feel close to her when I miss her, in a strange sort of way.

"So, I’m happy to have all the memories of my mom and all the joy she brought me, and the joy she brought my brother and my dad and everyone she ever met - everyone around her. So, when I miss her, I remember it’s because she made me so happy. So I can celebrate her and miss her at the same time.”

There is a strange comfort in that thought. A sense that grief, while painful, is also proof of love that was real and meaningful.

Kaybee’s openness reminds us that healing is not a straight line and there is no “correct” way to mourn. But it also nudges us to look at the people who are still here, still breathing, still part of our lives.

So maybe this season, as we gather and remember, we choose to soften a little. Let’s forgive more easily. Let’s love louder. Let’s speak the words we keep saving for later. Tomorrow is not promised, but today is.