The Moment Life Pressed Play For Me, Again

Music has always provided me with a way out, a personal escape that allowed me to process the events of life. Whenever I needed to release emotions or simply disconnect from the world, I had a ritual: putting on headphones, darkening the room, and finding a gentle light that illuminated only the book in my hands. With this ambiance, music became the background to my temporary sanctuary. Over the years, one band in particular became a central part of that escape, the beloved Canadian rock band, The Tragically Hip. Yet, somewhere along the way, I stopped listening to them. For years, I could not explain why. Only recently did I come to understand it.

In 2016, my life was already shadowed by grief from twin losses that I had attempted to bury and move past. Then, on May 24 of that year, The Hip’s frontman Gord Downie publicly revealed his diagnosis, and it felt like the world stopped. A part of my escape had turned into a reminder of the pain I was trying to outrun. While I could occasionally enjoy one of their songs, I could not lose myself in their music as I once had. It was no longer an escape, but a painful reminder. And just when I thought I could manage this shift, life dealt another blow. On August 7 of that year, my best friend, the one person I knew I could count on no matter what passed away unexpectedly. The friend I thought would always be there, suddenly, was not. The lyrics of Billy Joel’s song echoed in my head: “Only the good die young.”

In the face of such loss, I began to let myself grieve. It was not a choice, it was overwhelming, and it forced me to face my emotions. For a time, I moved through life in a fog of my own making, feeling like each day was just another in a long chain of burdens to bear. Then something unexpected happened. Slowly, I found small moments of happiness breaking through. It was a surprise, to say the least, but it was real. On the outside, I had always worn a smile, but now, for the first time in a long while, that smile felt genuine. I was rebuilding a life I could feel, yet The Tragically Hip remained on the shelf. The music I once loved felt like a wound I was not ready to reopen. New Orleans was still sinking and I was not ready to swim.

And then, Amazon Prime happened. One late Wednesday night, there it was, right in my recommendations, a new documentary titled The Tragically Hip: No Dress Rehearsal, directed by Gord Downie’s brother. I figured I would watch a bit of it before dozing off on the couch. But as I pressed play, I found myself glued to the screen for the next four-plus hours. I laughed, I sang, I danced, and I cried, sometimes doing all of it at once. It was as though that “wonderful” wall I had built was suddenly shattered, allowing everything I had buried to resurface and be released. It was cathartic. This was more than a night with music; it was a moment of rediscovery. That documentary had given me back my band and, with it, something I had not realized I was missing.

Since then, I have rewatched the documentary three times, and each viewing brings a new wave of emotions. This time, though, the tears are not from sadness; they are tears of joy. I am grateful to have had such incredible people in my life, and grateful for a band that has touched my soul in ways I had forgotten. The music I once avoided has now become a force that propels me forward. I sing The Hundredth Meridian at the top of my lungs, even if only when I am sure no one is around to hear me. I have come to see that music, like grief, has its way of breaking through, reminding me of all the joy I still carry.

Grief, as I have come to understand it, can be an overwhelming force, but it can also open doors to parts of ourselves that we thought were lost. I avoided The Hip for years, afraid of what their music might stir up in me, but I was wrong. Listening to them again has helped me “remember every single fucking thing I know”, the good, the painful, and the beautiful. Music is still my escape, but now it is something I embrace, with all its memories and meaning, no longer something to avoid.

The cover image is by Alexander, S. [Scott Alexander]. Canadian Rock Legends The Tragically Hip play during a stop at the Orpheum in Vancouver, June 22nd, 2009, on their tour supporting their album “We Are the Same.” June 22, 2009. Wikimedia Commons. https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:TragicallyGord_cc_attribution_ScottAlexander.jpg