Random Acts of Ordinary

Becca and I had tickets to the first night of Sara Bareilles's Good Grief tour in Boston. Then friends of ours couldn't use theirs, and their seats were better, so we sold ours and bought theirs. An ordinary decision.

They were VIP tickets. At check-in, the original purchaser's name wouldn't come up. The woman working the desk could’ve made that a problem. She didn't. She handed us the gift bags anyway. Inside was a concert poster.

The seat next to Becca filled shortly before the show. Within 2 minutes the woman in it told us her husband died in January. She has 5 kids and a demanding job. She mentioned the merch line was too long and she'd wanted a poster. She and her husband framed one from every show they went to and hung them on a wall at home.

I handed her mine. It cost me nothing.

Then the show started. The first set ended with Gravity, a song about wanting to be released from loving someone. She started crying. Then Becca. Then me. Three strangers in a row with tears running down our faces and not a word between us.

Then she reached over and handed Becca a tissue.

I've been thinking about that ever since. I’ve heard many people talking about grief needing a witness. Almost nobody talks about how hard the witnessing is. When someone is in real pain, everything in you wants to fix it, and we call that kindness. The actual work is to stay there and feel it with them.

Read the full piece on Substack.

Learn more about the adventure at www.heart-strong.org