Sometimes we go to a concert expecting music and leave carrying something much bigger.
That happened to me recently when I saw Bonnie Raitt.
She is in her seventies now, and of course, her voice is still remarkable. But what stayed with me wasn’t just the music. It was what she said between the songs.
She talked openly about the state of the world: war, hatred, forest fires, suffering. She talked about waking up with anxiety and thinking about everything happening around us.
There was something striking about hearing someone who has lived through so many decades speak so honestly about still being affected by the world.
There was no pretending that getting older means becoming immune to pain.
And there was no easy lesson about resilience.
Just honesty.
Grief doesn’t mean something is wrong
I think about this often in my work as a psychotherapist.
People sometimes come to therapy because they believe they should be doing better by now.
They have lost someone.
A relationship has ended.
Their children have grown up.
A parent is aging.
A friendship has changed.
They have experienced estrangement, illness, divorce, infertility, a career ending, or simply the realization that life isn’t going to look the way they once imagined.
And underneath the grief is often another layer:
Why am I still affected by this?
But grief isn’t evidence that we are failing to move forward.
Grief is one of the ways we remain connected to what mattered.
Sometimes we don’t need to move on from grief.
We need to learn how to carry it differently.
There is room for sadness and gratitude
What moved me about Raitt was that she didn’t seem to believe we have to choose between acknowledging suffering and noticing what is beautiful.
She could talk about the state of the world and then talk about gratitude.
She could acknowledge loss and celebrate music.
She could remember people who had died and honour what they had given her.
This is something grief teaches us, too.
Life can be heartbreaking and still contain extraordinary moments of joy.
You can miss someone terribly and laugh at a memory of them.
You can grieve the relationship you wished you had while appreciating the relationships that are still possible.
You can be frightened by what is happening in the world and still sit beside someone you love, listen to music, watch the sunset, or laugh until your stomach hurts.
Joy does not erase grief.
And grief does not disqualify us from joy.
What can suffering become?
Raitt also spoke about the suffering in the world as something that gives artists something to write about.
That stayed with me.
Not because suffering is somehow necessary or desirable.
It isn’t.
Trauma is not a gift. Loss is not something we need to be grateful for. Pain does not automatically make us wiser.
But human beings sometimes create meaning from experiences they never would have chosen.
This is part of what researchers describe as post-traumatic growth: the possibility that, after profound adversity, some people experience changes in perspective, relationships, priorities, spirituality, appreciation of life, or sense of personal strength.
Growth doesn’t mean the trauma was worth it.
It means the trauma does not have to be the only story.
Sometimes the question changes from:
“How do I get back to who I was?”
to:
“Who am I becoming because of what I have lived through?”
Generosity in hard times
Perhaps the part of the concert that touched me most was Raitt’s generosity.
She paid tribute to songwriters and musicians who had died. She acknowledged the people whose words and music had influenced her.
She has also built much of her career through collaboration—singing other people’s songs, working with other musicians, and making space for the contributions of others.
It made me wonder whether generosity is itself a form of resilience.
When the world feels frightening, it can be tempting to close in.
To protect ourselves.
To conserve our energy.
To become cynical.
But sometimes meaning comes from asking:
What can I still give?
Maybe it’s our attention.
Our experience.
Our creativity.
Our kindness.
Our story.
Our willingness to sit beside someone who is hurting.
Our ability to say, “I remember them too.”
We cannot fix everything that is broken in the world.
But we can influence the small part of the world that we touch.
And sometimes that is where meaning begins.
Grief changes us
I don’t think healing means becoming the person you were before the loss.
Some losses change us permanently.
The goal may be less about returning to an old version of ourselves and more about integrating what happened into the person we are becoming.
That might mean discovering greater compassion.
Changing our priorities.
Setting different boundaries.
Being more present with the people we love.
Letting go of things that no longer matter.
Or simply allowing ourselves to experience joy without feeling guilty that someone or something we loved is gone.
Perhaps that is one of the quiet forms of resilience that comes with time.
Not forgetting.
Not getting over it.
But learning that a life can hold sorrow and beauty at the same time.
And maybe, in the end, meaning is not something we find once and keep forever.
Maybe we keep making it.
Through the people we love.
Through the stories we tell.
Through what we create.
Through what we give.
And through the decision to remain open to life—even when we know how much it can hurt.
A Gentle Next Step
If you are navigating grief, ambiguous loss, estrangement, relationship loss, caregiver stress, burnout, or a major life transition, you may find yourself carrying more than other people realize.
Therapy can offer a place to slow down, make meaning of what has happened, and explore what it means to move forward without having to leave your grief behind.
I offer in-person psychotherapy in Hamilton and the surrounding area, as well as online therapy across Ontario, for individuals, couples, and families navigating grief, loss, relationships, trauma and life transitions. I offer free 15-minute phone consultations.
You don’t have to be ready to “move on.”
Sometimes the work is simply learning how to move with what you have lived through.
Disclaimer: This blog is for educational and informational purposes only. It is not a substitute for psychotherapy, medical advice, diagnosis, or individualized mental health treatment, and reading it does not establish a therapeutic relationship.
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