For Sara Bareilles, grief is not something to be feared — but to be revered

Lauren DePino is a singer, songwriter and writer working on a memoir about being a funeral singer.

Singer-songwriter Sara Bareilles knows what it’s like to live in fear of her grief eating her alive.

“I felt like I would dissolve, like it was too much feeling,” Bareilles told me of the deluge of grief she’d been enduring. Not only has she lost two close friends to cancer within the span of a few years, but she also revealed she’s heading into year three of a fertility struggle and facing “a new depth of low” with her mental health.

Yet the more Bareilles, a multi-hyphenate actor-composer-producer, surrendered to her grief in its many forms, the more she began to perceive mourning as a kind of devotional practice, as a miracle to behold.

It wasn’t until the end of the recording process of her raw and tender new album, “Good Grief,” that it dawned on Bareilles that she was writing entirely about grief. She debuted the first track, “Home” in March, on CNN Anchor Anderson Cooper’s podcast, All There Is . Cooper’s conversation with comedian Stephen Colbert in an earlier episode had inspired Bareilles to write the song. The men’s radical openness about their own grief and shared pledge to not keep their sadness hidden from their own children had moved Bareilles to tears.

It was only fitting that the process of creating the album helped her lean into the terrifying and awe-inspiring truths about her losses. For Bareilles, songwriting and grief are bridged by a holiness, a mysticism even — a belief that resonates with me.

“I’ve always felt like songwriting is a really sacred ritual, a kind of faith in the unknown, and a faith in the mystery of how music works and moves and God and the universe,” Bareilles told me recently.

While “there’s essential qualities that remain similar” with all her songwriting, these songs differ in one fundamental way. “I’m not quite out in front of the grief itself,” she said. “I’m still grieving my friends. I’m grieving my fertility journey. … I’m trying to share from a place of not really having any answers.”

Sara Bareilles wrote an entire album about grief in all forms. Before she headed out on tour, she spoke to CNN about the light she discovered in her own deep anxieties. For more of her interview, head to CNN.com

As someone who sings for people during the bleakest times in their lives, I see Bareilles’ loss-centered songs helping us reconcile in our hearts what our wearied souls cannot solve with our brains, no matter how hard we try. More than ever, we need comfort songs that speak to our snowballing sorrows — of losing a parent, losing a future we’ve planned for, losing a peer we’ve known for decades. Bareilles’ music fills this need and then some; her songs are modern, timely spirituals but also reminiscent of ancient songs of praise.

Her music contains a sacredness that transcends institutional religions without dismissing them, accomplishing what every effective mourning hymn does. These songs take our sadness, transmute it and hand it back to us, not only as something we can hold but as something we want to hold.

For fleeting moments, they awaken our pain in tones and textures, in vocal inflections and modulations. When the last notes of these songs ring out, I feel the ache and love for those I’ve lost magnified in equal measure, filling me with hope as my grief transforms into something I no longer perceive as sinister. The songs let me befriend my grief enough to understand that it’s not there to hijack my joy, but to remind me of it. Instead of sharpening my pain, grief’s presence softens it. And the longer I can sit with this grief, the more gifts I discover.

There is another kind of grief that Bareilles sings about — it has to do with confronting the belief that our psychological distress can cage us in a making of our own dark thoughts.

During a dire period of staggering anxiety, she penned letters to God, whom she describes with “a very wide interpretation” as “a life force, the animating force, as the soul that leaves the body,” revealing to this benevolent entity that she didn’t know how to navigate her way back to herself.

This relationship between Bareilles and her growing “trust in something that is unseeable, unknowable, unmeasurable,” she said, inspired the track “Capsize Me.” The song assures us, she explained to me, that “there is no version of this life where you are actually capsized” — that we’re not breakable, that grief does not and will not kill us.

Courtesy Grief, Sweat, & Tears

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Once we come to terms with these freeing realizations, Bareilles said, we can crack the door open to our grief. “We don’t have to dive into the deep end every time,” she said, but commit to “… being sort of devoted to the practice of opening up to it a little bit at a time.”

It takes only a hint of trust to welcome in the surprising iterations that grief can embody, ones vastly different from habitual despair. “My experience of grief has been so many things,” Bareilles said. “It’s not just fetal position crying in the corner. It’s mystery and awe and joy and jubilation.”

Dana Pleasant/The Academy/Sipa USA

Grief for her also means glimpsing beyond the threshold. For instance, her penultimate track, “Forever,” is written from what Bareilles said was the position of “the person who’s on their way out, and what they might want to say, if they had the words.” In the ethereal ballad, Bareilles resurrects the hallowed role of song leader, like the ones in ancient Greece . These empowered female mourners saw their songs as spells that could summon back the dead.

“I know there’s so much speech around the veil being thin around the time of loss, and I just feel the more time I spend really examining grief in all its forms, the veil is thin always,” she said. “I have found so much comfort in that.”

Bareilles wrote “Salt Then Sour Then Sweet” in collaboration with singer Brandi Carlile and the late poet Andrea Gibson, whom she got to know when Gibson was battling terminal cancer. Gibson’s journey was featured in the 2025 documentary “Come See Me in the Good Light.”

“One of the things Gibson says is that to die is to be reincarnated in the people you love while they’re still alive,” Bareilles said. “I think about that so much, this idea of changing planes of existence. Someone leaves this form for another form, but they live on in the people that they loved and the people who loved them.”

Brett Cove/SOPA/Sipa USA

Having kicked off her tour on September 9 and released the documentary “ Sara Bareilles: Good Grief ” the week prior, Bareilles hopes to create a space for more of that celebratory mourning. “If this tour is a place to create a space where the veil feels exceptionally thin, I am here for it, because I really think that’s actually the world we live in.”

Bareilles also told me she thought her communion with the audience would enrich her own healing. I can envision an exuberant communal catharsis taking place at each of her concerts.

More broadly, I see Bareilles upending our cultural aversion to mortality and death, as well as our avoidance of open grief — of both showing it and opening a space for it to be displayed. For her, grieving is an active, often heartening endeavor.

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“People talk about grief as love with nowhere to go, and I really think that is true. But I also think love has everywhere to go,” she told me. “I wonder about this idea of shining absence in the form of love onto other people and seeing what it does for their grief.”

The word “absence” to Bareilles feels more nuanced than someone we love simply not being here anymore. After bearing witness to her dear friend Gavin Creel in his final days and washing and clothing his body, she observed, “You realize they’re not in there.

“That is the craziest thing for me,” she said. “There is this soul that animates our physical form that doesn’t exist inside of it. It exists outside of it, and that’s why I feel this veil-is-thin concept is just like, well, they’re not in their bodies anymore. They are everywhere.”

Courtesy Lauren DePino

With every mention of the thinning veil, I think about my mom, who died last summer, who told me my whole life that the dead are never really gone. I was not with her when she died. The goodbye my mother would have chosen, had she had the chance, would have been anything but a hard and final end; it would have been paradoxically windowed, as Bareilles’ song “Forever” suggests.

Within my mother’s goodbye would have lived the promise of light — a forever-togetherness, invoked by her indestructible love for me and her conviction in her ability to still reach me, from wherever she has gone. This is the power of mourning music that I’ve known as a funeral singer; it lets grief sing.

When my mom died, I didn’t know if I could sing for her even though I do it for a living

I believe my mother took some part in arranging this conversation with one of my all-time favorite artists. And now that I’ve talked to Bareilles, I also see that my own grief had been mounting. That reminded me of what I often remind others — if we don’t let our grief move through us, we accumulate stone and grit that hardens us.

But a better option is becoming living, feeling, fluid monuments to the beings who we love. A better option is letting ourselves be sung to and letting these songs work their magic. If grief can come alive inside the music that is meant to hold its ever-shifting shape — no matter how sharp and mountainous — it can sing. And that itself is a miracle.

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劳伦·德皮诺是一位歌手、词曲作者和作家，她正在创作一本关于自己担任葬礼歌手的回忆录。

创作型歌手莎拉·巴雷莱斯深知那种生活在恐惧中，害怕被悲伤吞噬的滋味。

“我感觉自己快要崩溃了，感觉情绪太过强烈，”巴雷莱斯向我倾诉她所承受的巨大悲痛。短短几年内，她不仅失去了两位因癌症去世的挚友，还透露自己正经历着长达三年的不孕不育之苦，并且心理健康状况也跌入了“新的低谷”。

然而，身兼演员、作曲家、制片人等多重身份的巴雷莱斯越是沉浸于各种形式的悲伤之中，就越发开始将哀悼视为一种虔诚的修行，一种值得见证的奇迹。

直到她那张真挚动人的新专辑《Good Grief》录制完成，Bareilles 才意识到自己创作的歌曲完全是关于悲伤的。今年三月，她在 CNN 主播 Anderson Cooper 的播客节目《All There Is》中首播了专辑的第一首单曲《Home》。此前，Cooper 在一期节目中与喜剧演员 Stephen Colbert 的对话激发了 Bareilles 创作这首歌的灵感。两位男士坦诚地谈论自己的悲伤，并共同承诺不会对自己的孩子隐瞒痛苦，这让 Bareilles 感动落泪。

创作这张专辑的过程恰如其分地帮助她直面那些关于她失去亲人的可怕而又令人敬畏的真相。对巴雷莱斯来说，歌曲创作和悲伤之间有着一种神圣的、甚至是神秘的联系——这种信念引起了我的共鸣。

“我一直觉得歌曲创作是一种非常神圣的仪式，一种对未知事物的信仰，一种对音乐如何运作、如何流动以及上帝和宇宙的神秘感的信仰，”巴雷莱斯最近告诉我。

虽然她所有的歌曲创作“都具有一些相似的本质特征”，但这些歌曲在一个根本方面有所不同。“我还没有完全走出悲伤，”她说。“我仍在为我的朋友们哀悼。我仍在为我的生育之路感到悲伤……我试图在没有任何答案的情况下分享我的感受。”

莎拉·巴莱勒斯创作了一整张专辑，主题是各种形式的悲伤。在她开始巡演之前，她接受了CNN的采访，谈到了她在自己深深的焦虑中发现的光明。想了解更多采访内容，请访问CNN.com。

作为一名在人们生命中最黑暗的时刻为他们歌唱的人，我认为巴雷莱斯以失去为主题的歌曲，能够帮助我们用心灵去抚慰那些我们疲惫的灵魂无法用理性解决的伤痛，无论我们如何努力尝试。我们比以往任何时候都更需要抚慰人心的歌曲，来触动我们不断累积的悲伤——失去父母，失去我们规划的未来，失去相识数十年的挚友。巴雷莱斯的音乐不仅满足了这种需求，而且远不止于此；她的歌曲既是现代的、应时的精神之歌，又让人想起古老的赞美诗。

她的音乐蕴含着一种超越宗教体制的神圣感，却又不否定它们，达到了所有动人的哀悼圣歌所能达到的境界。这些歌曲汲取我们的悲伤，将其转化，并重新交还给我们，不仅让我们能够拥有，更让我们渴望拥有。

在转瞬即逝的时刻，它们以音调和质感、以语调和变化唤醒我们的伤痛。当这些歌曲的最后一个音符消逝，我对逝者的痛楚和爱意被无限放大，希望也随之涌上心头，我的悲伤逐渐转化为一种不再令我感到恐惧的事物。这些歌曲让我与悲伤和解，让我明白它并非要夺走我的快乐，而是提醒我快乐的存在。悲伤的存在非但没有加剧我的痛苦，反而使其变得柔和。而我越能与这份悲伤共处，就越能发现其中蕴藏的馈赠。

巴雷莱斯歌唱的还有另一种悲伤——它与面对这样一种信念有关：我们的心理痛苦会将我们囚禁在自己创造的黑暗想法之中。

在一段极度焦虑的艰难时期，她给上帝写信，她用“非常宽泛的解释”将上帝描述为“生命力、活力，就像离开身体的灵魂”，并向这位仁慈的存在透露，她不知道如何找回自我。

巴雷莱斯说，她与这种“对某种看不见、不可知、无法衡量的事物的信任”之间的关系，激发了她创作歌曲《Capsize Me》。她向我解释说，这首歌向我们保证，“人生中没有真正翻覆的结局”——我们并非不堪一击，悲伤不会也不会杀死我们。

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人们通过运动来排解悲伤。科学是怎么说的呢？

巴雷莱斯说，一旦我们接受了这些令人释怀的领悟，我们就可以敞开心扉，面对悲伤。“我们不必每次都一下子就投入到悲伤之中，”她说，“而是要致力于‘……一点一点地敞开心扉’。”

只需一丝信任，就能欣然接受悲伤所蕴含的种种意想不到的变奏，这些变奏与习以为常的绝望截然不同。“我对悲伤的体验包罗万象，”巴雷莱斯说，“它不仅仅是蜷缩在角落里哭泣。它还包含着神秘、敬畏、喜悦和欢欣。”

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对她而言，悲伤也意味着窥见彼岸。例如，她的倒数第二首歌曲《Forever》的创作灵感，正如巴雷莱斯所说，是从“即将离世之人”的角度出发，描绘了他们如果能开口，可能会说的话。在这首空灵的民谣中，巴雷莱斯重现了歌唱领袖这一神圣的角色，如同古希腊的那些女性。这些充满力量的女性哀悼者将她们的歌声视为能够召唤亡灵的咒语。

“我知道人们经常谈到在失去亲人时，那层帷幕会变得很薄，而我越是深入探究各种形式的悲伤，就越觉得那层帷幕总是很薄，”她说。“我从中得到了很大的安慰。”

巴雷莱斯与歌手布兰迪·卡莱尔和已故诗人安德里亚·吉布森合作创作了歌曲《盐、酸、甜》。巴雷莱斯在吉布森与绝症抗争期间结识了她。吉布森的抗癌历程被收录在2025年的纪录片《来见见我的好心情》中。

“吉布森说过，死亡意味着在所爱之人仍然活着的时候，以他们的灵魂转世重生，”巴雷莱斯说。“我经常思考这个概念，这种转换存在层面的方式。有人离开这种形态进入另一种形态，但他们会活在他们所爱的人和爱他们的人心中。”

Brett Cove/SOPA/Sipa USA

莎拉·巴雷莱斯 (Sara Bareilles) 于9月9日开启了她的巡演，并在前一周发布了纪录片《莎拉·巴雷莱斯：美好的悲伤》(Sara Bareilles: Good Grief)。她希望借此机会，为更多人营造一种庆祝式的哀悼氛围。“如果这次巡演能够创造一个让阴阳两界界限变得格外薄弱的空间，我非常乐意，因为我真的认为这才是我们生活的真实世界。”

巴雷莱斯还告诉我，她认为与观众的交流能够促进她自身的疗愈。我可以想象，在她的每一场音乐会上，都会发生一场充满活力、令人振奋的集体宣泄。

更广泛地说，我认为巴雷莱斯颠覆了我们文化中对死亡和生命的厌恶，以及我们对公开表达悲伤的回避——既包括公开表达悲伤，也包括为悲伤的展现创造空间。对她而言，悲伤是一种积极的、往往令人鼓舞的体验。

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“人们常说悲伤是无处安放的爱，我真的觉得这话没错。但我同时也认为爱无处可去，”她告诉我。“我一直在思考，如果能以爱的形式将这份缺失传递给他人，看看这会对他们的悲伤产生怎样的影响。”

对巴雷莱斯来说，“缺席”这个词的含义比我们所爱的人不再存在要复杂得多。在亲眼目睹她亲爱的朋友加文·克里尔生命的最后时光，并为他清洗和穿衣后，她感慨道：“你会意识到他们已经不在那里了。”

“这对我来说是最不可思议的事，”她说。“有一种灵魂赋予我们的肉体生命，但它并不存在于肉体内部。它存在于肉体之外，这就是为什么我觉得‘帷幕很薄’这个概念就像是，嗯，他们不再被困在肉体里了。他们无处不在。”

图片由 Lauren DePino 提供

每当我提起“帷幕渐薄”这个概念，我就会想起去年夏天去世的母亲。她一生都在告诉我，逝者并非真正离去。她去世时我不在她身边。如果母亲有机会，她选择的告别方式绝不会是痛苦而彻底的终结；正如巴雷莱斯的歌曲《永远》所暗示的那样，那将是充满矛盾却又美好的回忆。

母亲的离别中蕴藏着光明的希望——一种永恒相伴的信念，源于她对我永不磨灭的爱，以及她坚信无论身在何处，都能与我心意相通。这就是我作为一名葬礼歌手所领略到的哀歌的力量：它让悲伤得以歌唱。

母亲去世时，我不知道自己是否还能为她唱歌，尽管唱歌是我的职业。

我相信我母亲参与安排了这次与我最喜欢的艺术家之一的对话。现在我和巴雷莱斯聊过了，我也意识到我自己的悲伤一直在不断累积。这让我想起了我经常提醒别人的一句话——如果我们不让悲伤流淌，我们就会积攒起坚硬如石的沙砾，使我们变得冷漠无情。

但更好的选择是成为我们所爱之人鲜活、有感情、流动不息的纪念碑。更好的选择是让自己被歌声触动，让这些歌声发挥它们的魔力。如果悲伤能在注定承载其变幻莫测形态的音乐中焕发生机——无论它多么尖锐、多么巍峨——它就能歌唱。而这本身就是一个奇迹。

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