Video courtesy of RTE News

The relationship we share with musical artists is unlike any other. We may never meet them in person, yet they stand beside us in our darkest hours, offering quiet comfort. They become a harbor in a storm, a place we drift toward until the skies clear and we find the strength to continue.

I picked up my first album by Clannad in the early ’90s, convinced I was the only teenager in the Philippines who knew them. That illusion dissolved pleasantly when Bong, a local DJ and musician, revealed he had long been familiar with their music. He was years ahead of me, and during one phone conversation filled with Clannad trivia, he said, “Never ever argue about these (Clannad) things with me.” In time, I discovered other local fans who shared the same quiet devotion to the band’s ethereal sound and to the luminous voice of Moya Brennan.

Years passed, and I never imagined that such devotion would one day meet sorrow. The news of Moya Brennan’s passing arrived while I was at work. Reading it felt like an unseen blast had struck the city of my thoughts, where some moments rushed forward in sharp clarity while others slowed into a heavy, lingering stillness.

In that instant, memories of loss surfaced, family, friends, and artists who had once filled the world with presence, now gone. It felt as though the world had grown a little more inhospitable, its edges sharper, its silences deeper.

I remember a long-ago discussion on Unity, a now-defunct forum dedicated to Enya, where someone described Moya’s voice as akin to a warm embrace. It was a perfect description. She carried a kind of maternal grace in her music, a gentle strength that held listeners close. Reading tributes now, it is clear that many felt the same quiet solace in her voice.

“Gone Are The Days” from her album Signature has been my companion in recent months, and it will remain so as I honor her life and legacy. The bond between artist and listener is indeed something rare and enduring. Though paths may never cross, and now never will, the connection remains. She touched lives she never saw, hearts she never knew.

Moya, you will be deeply missed. May your voice continue to echo beyond this world, finding new ears and new hearts, wherever music is still needed.

I shared this conversation with my friend Paula who lives in England and was lucky to see her in concert. She encouraged me to write this piece.

My thoughts go to her family in this time of sadness.