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For Easter my mom got me tickets to see Michael Buble in concert. The concert was a few weeks ago and it was one of the best experiences I have ever had with her. It was just the two of us and it was amazing. Michael Buble is disgustingly talented and hilarious to top it all off. Needless to say, I’m in love with the man.
What struck me the most about his performance, other than the hopelessly romantic songs he sang, was his final song. He sang “A Song for You” by Leon Russell with the full band and all the lights and drama, but halfway through it the curtain fell, the lights went out, and the band stopped playing. There was a pause and then a single spotlight shone on Mr. Buble who was standing on stage alone. He sang the second half of the song by himself with no music and no fancy effects. It was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.
Here was this man singing to a crowd of 14,000 people with no help. It was raw, pure, and honest. All I could think about was how vulnerable he was and how he was singing because it was what he loved to do and he wanted to share it with others.
This event made me want to be a more honest person and not be afraid to share myself with others. I dream of being a writer and sharing what I love with anyone who will listen. The only way I can do that is if I’m honest and I write what I feel. As cheesy as it sounds, I could feel what Mr. Buble felt because he was allowing himself to share it with 14,000 other people. If that’s not courage then I don’t know what is. It was one of the coolest things I’ve ever experienced, and I got to do it sitting next to the greatest woman in the world.
When Mom was diagnosed with breast cancer she waited two weeks to tell my sister and me. She just wanted to know for sure that it was real, and I can’t blame her. To me, however, those were two weeks she spent alone and I wish she would have told me so she would have had someone to hold her hand. I was there with her throughout her chemotherapy and recovery, but I can’t say I was there for the diagnosis and it bothers me on a selfish level. I want to be able to say I was with her through it all, feeling and experiencing it alongside her. I know I was, but I still wish I had those first two weeks.
One thing I’ve learned in the past six years, that was brought to my attention at the concert, is that we have to let ourselves feel. When we are afraid or feeling alone, we have to let ourselves experience that fear to fully move past it. We have to embrace it. That’s the only way we will be confident enough to let others in too. I think that’s what my mom was doing in those first two weeks. She had to be afraid and let herself accept her new reality before she could introduce it to anyone else. Then she shared it with my sister and me and it turned into an experience that changed our lives. In some sort of twisted way, the same thing happened at the concert.
There is something to be said about honesty. Whether you are a singer, a breast cancer survivor, or someone in between, never in your life are you more vulnerable than when you are being honest, and never in your life are you more beautiful than when you share that with someone who is waiting to hear you.
