Music has this magical way of sneaking straight into the soul, doesn’t it? It bypasses logic, skips the small talk, and heads right for the heart, sometimes breaking it wide open, other times holding it together when nothing else can.
For me, music has been both my undoing and my saving grace.
When our son Garret died, someone gifted us a CD filled with songs to help us through the fog. (Remember CDs?) I still remember holding that disc like it was a lifeline, because it was. Every lyric, every chord, every tear-soaked note became part of our healing language. My late husband Jack decided that he wanted to create our "own" CD filled with songs that drew us closer to Garret; some were heartfelt, some were just good old rock songs that took the pain away.
At Garret’s funeral, my uncle sang “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” and we played “You Are My Sunshine.” Even now, when those melodies play, they take me right back to that bittersweet moment, grief and love wrapped up together in sound. It’s like my heart recognizes those first few notes and whispers, He’s here.
The Playlist That Became Our Healing
When Jack died, I continued that tradition, though “continued” might not even be the right word. I expanded it. I lived it.
For Jack’s service, we chose “I Can Only Imagine” by MercyMe, “The Promise” by Tracy Chapman, and "Amazing Grace". These songs still stop me in my tracks, for very different reasons. One lifts me to heaven, the other grounds me here on earth.
And somewhere along the way, that grief CD became a playlist. One that started with loss but grew into something bigger; a soundtrack of resilience, of remembering, of celebrating love that refuses to fade.
I call it our Garret & Jack Playlist and yes, it lives on Spotify now (because apparently, I’ve upgraded from burned CDs to emotional streaming therapy). Link to my own Spotify playlist - Grief Playlist
Every song on that list carries a story. A chapter. A heartbeat. Some make me cry. Some make me dance. Some make me feel like I’m still sitting on the back porch with Jack, barefoot and laughing, as the sun sets.
When Music Hurts Too Much
Here’s the thing though, not everyone can dive into music right away after loss.
In those early days, even the radio felt like a minefield. One familiar tune and I’d be wrecked. Silence felt safer. And that’s okay.
Music holds memory, and memory holds emotion. It’s completely normal to feel like you can’t listen yet. The heart will tell you when it’s ready.
Music as Medicine for the Soul
When it does feel right, though - oh, what a gift.
Music doesn’t erase grief, it translates it. It gives sound to the things we can’t say.
It lets your tears have rhythm.
It lets your love have a voice.
Listening to “your person’s song” isn’t masochism, it’s connection. It’s continuing the conversation that death tried to interrupt.
So whether it’s blasting “You Are My Sunshine” on a drive alone, or swaying quietly to "Amazing Grace" with a candle lit beside you, know that those songs are tiny bridges — moments that let heaven and earth meet for just a minute.
A Little Griefy Fun: Pick Your Song
One night not long ago, some friends and I sat around with a few drinks, laughing and swapping stories and we somehow ended up on YouTube, playing “Pick Your Funeral Song.”
It started as a joke but turned into one of the most heartfelt nights I can remember. Each song sparked a story, a reason, a memory. Some were serious, some were hilarious (because honestly, who doesn’t want a little humor at their funeral?).
We even made a list in our phone, because apparently, that’s what you do when you’re healing with friends: you make playlists for life and beyond.
That night reminded me that music connects us not just in grief, but in the joy of being human.
Your Turn: Create Your Own Healing Playlist
If you’re walking through grief, try this:
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Start small. Pick one song that feels safe — something that holds a memory without overwhelming you.
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Add songs that remind you of love, not just loss. The goal isn’t to drown in sadness, it’s to remember that joy still exists, too.
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Name your playlist. Maybe it’s your loved one’s name, or something hopeful like “Songs for Healing.” Naming it makes it feel sacred.
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Play it when you’re ready. Some days you’ll skip a track or cry through it. Some days you’ll sing along. Both are healing.
Because Every Grieving Heart Has a Soundtrack
The songs we choose become chapters of our story, the ones that carry our people forward with us.
Grief changes the way we hear music. But music, if we let it, can also change the way we heal.
So go ahead, find your song. Let it hold you when words can’t.
And when you’re ready, press play.