Photo courtesy of Dana Gorab

I was going through the worst heartbreak I had ever been through up until that point in life. Actually you know what, still to this point, I haven’t felt as heartbroken as I did that summer.

In 2018, my life totally flipped around. My best friend, my band mate and someone I grew into adulthood with for five years moved on with someone else, and as dramatic as it sounds, I was relearning how to do life by myself. I mean that in every way it can be taken. I couldn’t wake up without thinking of texting her. I couldn’t eat, leave my house, go anywhere without tracing back to a time where we obviously would’ve done the same together before.

Trying to make music was horrific. Today, I know what I was so stuck on back then was codependency. But at the time, I just thought I was empty. It felt like I had nothing of my own at 22.

The timing between my breakup and breakups among some of my friends lined up pretty simultaneously. So we had endless nights where we’d call each other up to hang out and do anything we could. Sometimes when we talk about it now, we refer to our binges out and about as a means of survival. It’s so, so, over the top, but truly it felt like while others at the parties we’d go to were there for a good time, we were there so we weren’t at home beating new records of how much we could cry.

It was Canada Day, and a friend invited me to tag along to one of his friend’s shows. They’d be headlining a festival in a park; there were fireworks, there were carnival games. I don’t remember much else; I could hardly see past myself those days. I called my friend while I was out there; she was one among the heartbroken club who I knew would appreciate a day like Canada Day not having been spent alone, and while she debated at first she came.

We hung out for a bit before Courage My Love’s set, found things to laugh at and hold tears in about, and then we went to join the others on the grass for the show. They totally crushed it as per usual. I think at the time they were on an album cycle for Synesthesia.

Being around live music was still really hard at this point. My ex and I experienced half our relationship playing live music together, being around live music, so for most of the set I was doing breathing exercises, grounding myself - casual. It wasn’t until they played “Need Someone” that the waterworks started.

It wasn’t that I was crying about my ex though. The song’s really sweet because it speaks to being there for someone, regardless of what toll that might be on yourself. It made me feel really deeply in my chest how lucky I was to have my friends. And while maybe there wasn’t any unrequited love in the dynamic, it was an unfortunate situation for both of us, but we were both there.

Later at night the fireworks went off, and most of the day I dreaded watching them because I knew I’d hold it to the previous Canada Day. But it wasn’t half bad. My friend sat right next to me, arm in arm, and in silence for bits at a time.