Brother, I think it’s time we talk; why do guys like us spend most our lives playing it tough?

I just kept replaying it.

On the morning of Saturday, November 23, 2024, as I ran circles around my neighborhood in the rain, I found myself double-tapping my AirPods every three and a half minutes to restart the song. I wanted – no, I needed – to hear it again. It was the one thing keeping me from spiraling out of control. For that run, and that day, and that weekend, this particular song was my force of gravity. If I just kept playing it, then I could keep the things I held dear from floating off into the ether.

I am not the type of person to replay songs ad nauseum. Even the songs I love most have rarely had me reaching for the replay button more than two or three times in a row. So why was it that, on that November morning, the only thing that felt appropriate was listening to a mostly-forgotten album track from country-soul singer Brett Eldredge 10 times in a row?

That morning, I’d woken up to the kind of text messages you never want to see on your phone screen. “I know you won’t see this until the morning but please give me a call whenever you can.” My sister-in-law had sent that text at 2:08 in the morning. Another message, from a mutual friend of my brother’s, said “PLEASE know I’m thinking about you and the family. I’m here for whatever you guys need.”

I have never popped out of bed faster.