The Playlist That Teaches Us How to Grieve and Keep Living
Hi, friends.
In less than two weeks, it will be five years since my dad died. Five years. That number tastes metallic in my mouth. Grief doesn’t shrink. It waits. It moves in. Some mornings, I can laugh, cook, do life. Other mornings, I crumble in HomeGoods, clutching a mug that says Best Dad Ever, wondering how the universe dares to keep going when his heart isn’t.
Need to start smaller? Begin here if grief feels too close:
How This Playlist Works
Grief isn’t the bottom, but it feels close. From there, the only way is up: fear, desire, anger, pride, courage, neutrality, willingness, acceptance, reason, love, joy, peace, enlightenment. Each one a rung on the ladder.
This playlist follows that climb. Every song pulls you from collapse into movement, from ache into breath, from silence into light.
Don’t shuffle it. Don’t skip it. The order is the spell.
Grief
Grief lives in my chest like glass shards. It hurts to breathe, it hurts to remember, it hurts to forget. The only way forward is through. These four songs are grief’s language, each one a shape of the same heartbreak.
“I’ll Never Love Again” – Lady Gaga
The piano doesn’t fill the space. It leaves it empty, so you feel the silence as much as the sound. Her voice cracks open on the high notes, like ribs splitting under the weight of absence. This song doesn’t heal grief. It becomes it. I didn’t want reassurance. I wanted music that sounded like my chest caving in.
“Yesterday” – The Beatles
This is grief’s ache: not screaming, not dramatic, but the quiet sadness of ordinary mornings. Paul McCartney sings like he’s holding onto something already gone. The strings dissolve like memories slipping through fingers. One note and suddenly you’re back inside a moment you thought you’d outrun. It breaks you open because it’s gone and it’s still here all at once.
“Hello” – Adele
Grief is loud, and “Hello” gives it a voice. The opening chords slam, and Adele’s voice tears through like a siren. It’s the call you keep making to someone who will never answer. Singing along is the only way to survive it. You scream until your throat aches, until your body feels emptied out. It gives you permission to be as devastated as grief itself.
“It Ends Tonight” – The All-American Rejects
Grief reduces you. It takes you back to the teenage version of yourself: furious, helpless, collapsing. It starts quiet, then swells until it crashes, the way grief sneaks in soft and then flattens you. This was the soundtrack to nights when I sobbed until nothing was left, and then, out of nowhere, laughed because the pain had wrung me dry. It was release. And sometimes, that’s all grief gives you.
And now, we begin our ascent.
Fear “Gimme Shelter” – The Rolling Stones
After my dad died, fear moved into my body like a squatter. Every call felt like bad news, every knock like the next catastrophe. “Gimme Shelter” sounded like that dread: the creeping riff, then Merry Clayton’s scream ripping the air open like the panic I couldn’t say out loud.
If you’re grieving, you know that fear, the sense that loss will keep multiplying, that safety is gone. This track doesn’t soothe it, it matches it. It blasts the terror out of your chest so you don’t have to hold it alone.
Play it loud. Let the guitar meet the tightness in your body. If you can, scream with it. If you can’t, breathe until your shoulders drop. For a few minutes, the fear isn’t yours alone, the song is carrying it.
Desire “Stayin’ Alive” – Capital Cities
If you’re grieving, you know the feeling: I’m going nowhere. Somebody help me. That line is everything. In this cover, the disco shine is gone. What’s left is a steady pulse, like a hand on your back keeping you breathing when you don’t want to.
This track didn’t tell me to heal. It whispered: Stay. Stay alive. Stay for one more morning. If you’re in that place, put this on. Let the beat breathe for you. You don’t have to move. Just let the line echo through you: I’m going nowhere. Somebody help me.
Anger “Head Like a Hole” – Nine Inch Nails
Anger in grief feels dangerous, but it’s holy. You loved so much that losing them ripped you raw. Furious at the world for daring to keep spinning. Furious at the sky for not cracking open. Furious at anyone who gets to have what you don’t.
“Head Like a Hole” doesn’t calm anger, it explodes with you. The metallic grind, the pounding rhythm, Reznor’s voice shredding itself, it gives rage a container so it doesn’t eat you alive.
If you’re grieving and boiling, blast it in the car. Scream until your throat hurts. Pound the wheel. Let the song carry the fury you can’t admit out loud. Anger won’t bring them back. But it proves your love was real, your fire is still burning.
Pride “Stronger” – Kanye West
Pride in grief is a spark in ashes. It’s survival saying, I’m still here. “Stronger” is cocky, loud, relentless, and that’s the point. Sometimes you need a song that drags you out of bed when nothing else can.
It didn’t heal me. It made me defiant. Just enough edge to look in the mirror with swollen eyes and say, "You haven’t broken me yet."
If you’ve spent days under blankets, play this when you finally stand up. Blast it while you brush your teeth, splash water, pull on clean clothes. That tiny act is pride. Pride means life is still in you.
Courage “Heroes” – David Bowie
Courage in grief isn’t running into fires. It’s dragging yourself out of bed. It’s brushing your teeth when the silence is too loud. Surviving another Tuesday.
That’s why “Heroes” matters. Bowie takes the smallest act of endurance and makes it an anthem. The chords swell, the vocal soars, and suddenly it counts.
If you’re grieving, you know: getting through the day is heroic. This song doesn’t make it easier, but it reframes it. Even in the rubble, you’re still choosing life.
Neutrality “No Surprises” – Radiohead
Sometimes grief dries you out until you feel nothing at all. It isn’t peace. It’s numbness, and it can feel like the scariest part because you wonder if you will ever feel again.
“No Surprises” sounds like that numbness, and it makes it bearable. Chiming bells. A quiet voice. It asks nothing. It lets you lie there without judgment.
This is a safe corner to rest. Put it on, close your eyes, be still. Sometimes, survival is letting the numbness hold you until the next feeling comes.
Willingness “505” – Arctic Monkeys
Willingness sneaks in as restlessness. “505” is messy yearning set to music. The tempo pushes, the guitars surge, the vocal strains with urgency.
After numbness, that urgency cracks something open. It reminds you what longing feels like. Not to get back what you lost, but to prove you can still want.
Let this track jolt you awake. Don’t explain it. Let it stir the embers. Willingness is the moment you let yourself feel again, even if it is messy.
Acceptance “Vienna” – Billy Joel
Acceptance arrives in whispers. “Vienna” is that whisper. The piano is unhurried, a hand on your shoulder saying slow down. It isn’t saying it’s okay they are gone. It is saying it’s okay, you are still here. Not closure. Permission to keep living while carrying the loss. Let this be your exhale. Play it when moving forward feels like betrayal. “Vienna” reminds you that moving forward is proof their love still moves in you.
Reason “Once in a Lifetime” – Talking Heads
Grief makes the ordinary surreal. You are washing dishes, answering emails, and the thought slams in: How is this my life now? That is why this song matters. It doesn’t soothe. It spirals. The bass loops and Byrne chants the question we are scared to say: How did I get here?
Let this track be the mirror. It won’t fix the absurdity. It tells the truth. You are not the only one living a life you do not recognize. Sometimes that is enough to keep breathing.
Love “My Heart Will Go On” – Celine Dion
Grief is love with nowhere to go. Sometimes the only thing big enough to hold it is a song that refuses to be small. Then Celine’s voice rises, holy and unstoppable. This isn’t cheesy. It is scripture for the brokenhearted. The ache doesn’t mean the love is gone. It means the love is still here, demanding to be heard. Put it on and let it wreck you. Sing until your throat cracks. Sob until your ribs ache. Every tear is proof the love lives on inside you. That love is indestructible.
Joy “Dancing in the Dark” – Bruce Springsteen
Joy in grief isn’t clean. It's clawing your way out of the pit for a single breath. That is what “Dancing in the Dark” feels like. Exhausted, furious, alive at once, shouting into the night like joy must be wrestled back. This song gives you permission to want joy when it feels impossible. Move your body with a heavy heart. Let the beat drag you into messy aliveness. It is survival joy, and it still counts.
Peace “Blue Mind” – Alexie Murdoch
This feels like breathing after the sobbing stops. Not healing. Just breath. A steady guitar. A gentle voice. Let it play when you are empty. Let it hold the quiet for you. That is peace.
Enlightenment “Turn! Turn! Turn!” – Dolly Parton & Roger McGuinn
You don’t walk into enlightenment. It arrives like light through blinds when you are not expecting it. “Turn! Turn! Turn!” is that light. Dolly’s voice is compassion. McGuinn is steady. Together, they remind you grief is not the whole story. To everything, a season.
This isn’t about leaving grief behind. It is letting it live beside love and beauty and the ordinary miracle of still being here. Enlightenment isn’t floating above life. It is looking at the world with tear-streaked eyes and still seeing the sky as beautiful.
If you take one thing from this playlist, let it be this. Your grief proves your love. Your love proves you are alive. That love will not end. Neither will the music.
If this playlist helped you heal, these might help too:
Healing Playlist for Shame and Every Emotion You Need to Feel
If shame is still shadowing you after grief, this one meets you where you are — with honesty, compassion, and songs that resonate with radical softness.Healing Guilt Through Music: 17 Songs to Help You Heal
Carrying guilt that won’t let you breathe? These tracks lean you gently out of remorse and back toward self-compassion, note by note.This Playlist Will Pull You Out of Apathy. No, Seriously.
Feeling numb, flat, or like grief froze you out? Let this music crack your chest open with feeling again.
What’s your grief song? Someone else might need it too.
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