'Welcome to All There Is. I took a couple of days off with my kids at a beach this past week. And while I was away, it was reported that I've decided to leave CBS's 60 Minutes, where I've worked part-time for the last nearly 20 years. I was caught by surprise that the story leaked out. I was at a water park with my kid, and I quickly typed out a few lines about why I decided to Leave. And what I said was that I'd been able to balance both jobs for a long time, but now that I have little kids, I just need to work less. I wanna spend as much time with them as possible, I wrote, while they still wanna spend time with me. And that is very true. David Letterman famously said that after leaving his long running talk show, if you retire to spend more time with your family, check with your family first. Well, I did, and my kids definitely liked the idea of me being around more. A friend of mine, actually a cameraman at 60 Minutes, recently told me that he remembers the moment when his seven-year-old son stopped holding his hand. They were walking to school together, and his son just slipped his hand out of his dad's. My friend didn't think anything of it in that moment, but soon realized that was the last time his son would ever reach out to hold his hand again. I haven't been able to get that story out of my mind. My kids still love holding my hand, or at least they still seem willing to let me hold theirs. That's not gonna last forever, and I've already missed out on too much. My guest today is also the dad of two boys. He's singer-songwriter Eric Church. He's had an incredible career in music. He started writing songs when he was 13 and first played at the Grand Ole Opry in 2006. Eric is 48 now with a long list of hits under his belt. His latest album, Evangeline Versus The Machine, is available now and you can see him live on tour this year. But Eric also knows loss. In June 2017, Eric had a nearly fatal blood clot in his chest. And was rushed into surgery, which saved his life. That September, he headlined on the opening night of the Route 91 Harvest Festival in Las Vegas. Two days later, a gunman opened fire into the crowd and what became the deadliest mass shooting by a single gunman in US history. 60 people were killed there and more than 400 were wounded. The following June, Eric's 36-year-old brother, Brandon, died. I sat down with Eric last week in New York and you'll hear from him right after this break. My guest today is Eric Church. The thing about grief and loss to me is it feels so lonely, and yet is this bond that everybody has that we share with everybody else on the planet. And you and I share a bond, and I'm not even sure if you...

I do know this.

You do know. I did an interview with a woman. Heather Milton. Heather Milton, whose husband, Sonny, was murdered in Las Vegas. This was just in the day, immediately after the killings. Do you want to talk about that night at all?

'Uh, yeah, I mean, it's horrifically vivid, we were having such a good time. And probably-.

Going to concerts was your thing?

Yeah, we loved going to concerts. We did it every single month. We went to at least one concert.

You're wearing his favorite concert shirt.

Eric Church was his guy. And we came to Vegas to see Eric Church. And actually we have tickets to go tomorrow night to see him in Nashville. And we were having a great time.

How do you deal with this? And I've talked to people in the past who say, sometimes it's minute by minute, second by second.

I mean, I think that's why you have to start the second by second. I cannot imagine my life without him. I'm not really sure how you do that, because it's not something you learn in life. Like you don't just learn to start tying your shoes and then, you know, or riding a bike. You're never prepared for something like this.

Somebody sent you that interview.

It's, I've not seen that since it happened. I had played Friday and the shooting was on a Sunday and that following Tuesday I was playing the Grand Ole Opry. Somebody sent me that right after the shooting had happened. And it was such a, um, something broke in me when, when that happened on stage was always this place that for all my life that I could go and whatever was happening in my personal life or anything. I could go on stage and I had that moment of communion with the fans and the spirit moves and we give it to each other back and forth and that was safe for me and it never occurred to me that there could be any way for that to not be safe. And after Vegas happened, those bullets shattered that safety and some broke in me and I got sent that right after it happened. In that interview. Was really the impetus for what happened on the Grand Ole Opry. I wrote a song called, Why Not Me? Because you go through this moment of, okay, I played Friday and this happened Sunday. Why didn't it happen Friday? And you go to, it could have been me, right? And just to see the people on Friday night and to see how they were so full of life. They were into every song and I even. Walked down off the stage and walked all the way out to my sound guy in the middle of the crowd and I shook everybody's hand on the last song and I walked down one side and I came back the other. I don't normally do that. And I did it that night because it was just the spirit was so great. And then to see what would happen right after that, it just, it spun me.

Is it something you still think about a lot?

We went through a period for a while where I had a fair amount of PTSD. I went through couple years of that. It was always there. Always in the back of your mind. And I still think about it.

She and Sonny had tickets to see you at the Grand Ole Opry. You didn't want to play that show. You did. You went on stage and you talked about this, and if it's okay, is it right if I play what you said?

Yeah, sure.

I went down the right side and I shook everybody's hand and I told him, I told them thank you for coming. It's been a heck of a year, been a hell of a year actually and I went all the way down the right side, waved at my sound guy, came back up the left side, smiling faces, hands in the air, pictures being taken. And I jumped back up on stage, and I played Hovemone, and A man That was Gonna Die Young. 48 hours later, those places that I stood was carnage. Those were my people. Those were MY fans. And um... I didn't want to be here tonight. I didn't want to play guitar. I didn't want to walk on the stage, but last night... Let me try to get this out. Somebody sent me a video of a lady named Heather Melton, and she was talking to Anderson Cooper on CNN, and she had on our Church choir tour shirt. And he said, what brought you to Vegas? And she goes, we went there to see Eric Church. And because he was Sonny's, her husband who died, it was his guy. And we went to see his guy And then she said, we have tickets for the Grand Ole Opry tomorrow night. And there's a, over here, section three, row F. If you're there, if you're in row F, there's some empty seats, and that's their seat. I'm gonna tell you something, the reason I'm here, the reason that I'm hear tonight, is because of Heather Melton, or Elizabeth Sonny, who died. And every person that was there, because I'm gonna tell you something, I saw that crowd. I saw them with their hands in their air. I saw him. I saw with boots in the air. What I saw, that moment in time that was frozen, there's no amount of bullets that can take away.

It's beautiful.

I don't remember it. I think I blacked out.

You don't remember that.

'I mean I remember having the emotion. I remember when I walked off stage that night after it was over with yes, I sometimes things I remember it, but I don't. It's almost like I was watching that a little bit in a way, but I'm just so overcome with emotion. I remember I usually played a lot of stages, but I remember, I was side-staged that night. My wife was with me and I was just, I didn't know what I was gonna say. I didn't know if I could say anything. I didn't know if could play the song that I had written in the 48 hours since it happened. And I remember just pacing back and forth on the side of the Opry, trying to figure out what I wasn't gonna say and it just came out.

Does that image that you talked about, is that still frozen in your mind?

Of that crowd, that joy. Not that there's a good in anything like this, but I will say that I've appreciated, since that moment, when we get to the end of a show and I look at people, it really is a moment in time and you can take it for granted. And every show since then, I have had a moment in the show where I lock eyes or I appreciate that we're taking for granted that we'll do this again. And I had taken that for granted up into that moment. And at least for me, I've been way more tuned into that on every show, every show I've played, everyone, no matter where since then.

The song you wrote, and you wrote it, I mean, 24 hours, 48 hours, "Why Not Me." I just want to play a little bit of that. This is from the Grand Ole Opry.

Yeah, the Lord is my refuge, my fortress, my God with whom I trust. But I never know why the wicked gets to prey on the best of us. Why you, full of life and promise, at the top of your lungs so loud, my songs that you sang so sweetly will ring in my ears forever now. And when the morning sun hits the mountain and a glorious still calms the breeze, I'll ask the god of infinite wisdom, why you and why not me.

Is it hard listening to that?

Yeah. Yeah.

Do you feel grief in your life? Is grief something you are cognizant of feeling?

Um, yes, I think that I've always treated grief with, get as much space as you can between myself and the grief, do whatever you can.

Me, too.

Right, right. So that's, that's I've always, cause everybody talks about, you know, time heals. And that's true. The grief process is what allows time to heal. I'm 48 now, so I find that the last three or four years of my life, that's become all that stuff that you bury, which I do great at. Kind of rub some dirt on it and keep rocking. Comes back. So yeah, and I had a period of time where a number of things happened to me that were traumatic or grief stuff. And at that time in my career, I just kept going, another show, another whatever, just keep rocking, keep going. Keep working. And it's not what I would recommend to anybody.

Well I found, I mean I'm 58 and I just woke up to realizing I've never grieved and that's why I'm doing this, because I'm trying to figure out what it means and learn how to do it because I don't know.

You literally went to warzones.

Yeah, and you talk about putting some dirt on it, I mean, I was putting layers and layers of dirt and thousands of miles between me and it, but you're right, it gets buried, but it doesn't go away. Was that learned behavior or is that something? It's what I, as a little kid, figured out. I was so angry, I'm so filled with rage, I used this rocket fuel to propel myself forward and I could outwork anybody. I could jump on a plane, abandon friendships, whatever. Work is the thing that I latched onto like a rocket and it saved me until it doesn't.

I was going to say that there's a thing I would, I would say the same thing for me. You know, it's something that you just kind of, to me, it was always space. It's just get as much space as I can, two weeks, one month, six weeks, you know, it's not healthy, but it's the way I've always dealt with it.

Do you find that different now? Yeah. Because you've taken a break from recording and I wondered how much of that is just like catching a breath.

I think some of it is family and kids too. You just, you get older in life. I've got two boys. You just you, you understand that we all, we all have trauma. Life is gonna have trauma and I was never very well prepared in my opinion to deal with that at the times it happened because the times that it happened at least specifically with Vegas, it was a traumatic event. This is not a sick parent or something that I see coming. It's something I could prepare for. It was, it was that, and I didn't, I did a horrible job at that and other things, but just figuring out how to deal with it. And I, my, my way to deal with it was just continue to keep your head down and play the next show, get on the bus. I mean, I lost my brother right after this.

'You you had life-threatening surgery, you had a blood clot that they discovered and boom you had to go to surgery. Then a couple months later there was the shooting in Vegas and then your brother Brandon died June 2018.

All within a year. So I had three different things. I confronted my own mortality, right, and then I had two kind of very traumatic events. So, I went through a number of things within a year that I had not went through really in my life. And I just, I mean, I played a show after my brother died. We buried him and I played the show four days later because I had a show and I knew he wanted me to play the show. He would want me to do this, you know, that kind of thing. They would want to keep going, keep plugging. It's all these things you go in your head. And that's right, it's not wrong that they would, but I didn't spend any time dealing with it. So I just kept playing, kept going. But I look back on it now, I've been, you now, it just, I'm not sure that was the right thing to do.

It's so interesting, there's this loneliness epidemic, especially among guys in this country, and there's a suicide problem, and I think buried grief is at the heart of so much of the loneliness that especially guys feel, because we're not able to talk about this crazy bond that we all have, which is, I miss this person. And I found now in doing this, it's incredible to me how many people pass me notes on airplanes, like happened just on a flight the other day, two people passed me notes like, my sister killed herself a couple years ago. And it's a beautiful connection. And I think it's awesome that you're even talking about this because I think there's probably a lot of people in your crowds who have that same feeling that you have and bury it just like you did and I did and so many of us did.

Are you one of two kids?

Yeah, I'm the last one from my little family. That's for me been the hardest part. Being, like, the only one left who remembers all these memories is a weird feeling.

When my brother died, I didn't comprehend that it's never going to be the same again with my parents, with their relationship with our, the whole family, the family dynamic when my brother. I wasn't prepared for that part. I had to actually call, and I think it's okay that I say this to you, but I had a call right after from Vince Gill. And Vince Gill lost, iconic country artist, lost his brother. And of all people, like two or three days after my brother died, Vince called me. And I didn't really know Vince very well. I'd met him. And he actually was the first one that said to me, he said, you don't understand this now. But you're never gonna be the same. Your mom and dad are never gonna the same, your sister's never gonna to be the the same y'all are never going to be same as a unit. Nothing's ever gonna be same. And the quicker you understand that, the better you'll deal with it. And at the time, I didn't get it. I was sitting there thinking, well, it was grief, we've always been the family. But looking back on it, that's, he's exactly right. It never is the same when something like that happens. Changes everything and it becomes a new normal. At least with my brother, as people would try to talk about it. I have a ton of stories I could tell and a ton of things, but I wouldn't. I would just, I don't know, the pain maybe.

'You have two boys, teenagers, I have two boys just turned four, gonna turn six soon. I want to change, I wanna get better because I don't want them to use the same techniques that I use and I want them to understand loss and be able to talk about sadness and their feelings and I already see it in my almost six-year-old not talking about things and so it's one of the reasons I'm trying to like. Better as fast as I can, because I want them to be able to, even to allow them to see me sad and to see struggling with these things, have them in on the conversation.

We made a mistake. I look back on it now, I know it was a mistake at the time, but we made a mistakes. When my brother died, it was such a traumatic thing. And we decided, my son, let's see, at the time would have been six, six, seven, and my other son would have four or five. And we decide not to take him to the funeral. We left him back with a relative and we went to the funerals. And I look at that now, at the it sounded like the exact right thing to do. Because I was a wreck, I was mess. My family was a mess. I look back at it now and sometimes it's good for a child if they're in that age, 5, 6, 7, 8, to see everybody hurting, to a life change of it, to what that death is, that it's a part of something. So that's one thing that I regret. If I could go back, I would go back and I would do that different.

'To see you in pain, but also to see you continue on, I think, is that it's not so cataclysmic that there isn't after. And I talk about my dad and my mom, and my kids ask me about their death, and we talk about it in ways I never did as a kid. I try to do it age-appropriate, and I see their curiosity about it, and to normalize it is kind of lovely. But I'm gonna go to the cemetery to see my mom and brother and... Dad and my little six-year-old wants to come, and it's not weird to him. And it's interesting because I look back in history and grief used to be this communal experience. Your folks are from North Carolina, your ancestry is from there, my dad is from Mississippi. During the Depression, as a little kid, he went to funerals like every weekend. His mom played the piano.

At wakes.

At wakes, yeah. He would spend days, you know. Yeah, and everybody would come. Even if you didn't really know the person, it was just a communal activity.

I think some of the times have changed a little bit where that permeated so much of the culture where I think now you're trying to protect your kids, but you're probably not. That's the one thing I've thought about more than anything, and listen, I have gave myself a little grace on that, my wife and I have talked about it, but I just was not in any frame of mind to make that decision, to be honest.

It's one of the things about country music, though, that I love, which is the things you talk about and sing about. It can be an upbeat song, but it is like sadness and... It's real life. It's a real life! But that's what makes it great, right? You wrote two songs with your brother, Without You Here, and they're both upbeat, but also without you here. Actually, could we just play the one song?

I know where I come from..

Look at that kid.

I know who's that.

Who's that guy? Long time ago, man.

I don't need baggy clothes or rings in my nose to be cool..

I could pull up you on some Channel One stuff, if you want me to pull that up. I used to watch you in my high school.

Oh, were you a Channel One kid?

I was a Channel one kid. Our high school was Channel One. You used to do crazy stuff. Yeah.

That's true.

I ain't seen this video in ten years.

It moves, I like it.

We didn't have a good budget so we shot our own video just passed the camera around this way. That's the way I did it back then

'That's one of the songs you co-wrote with your brother.

'It was. My brother was, I wouldn't be where I am today. When I came to Nashville, like any experience for a young artist and Nashville songwriter, it's tough. You think you're really good, I would say this to any artist out there, you think you really good till you get to Nashville and you see what really good looks like. And I went through a couple years of trying to make it and it wouldn't work and I was about to come home one night and I wasn't in a band with my brother, I really close my brother. Before I went to Nashville and I called him and he was back home, he had dropped out of school and he said, what's going on? I said, man, it's not gonna work. I feel like life's passing me by. I feel all my friends and everybody back there is moving on with their life, they're getting married, they're doing this stuff. I'm out here treading water, right? And the next day he showed up in Nashville. We drove and I had a one-bedroom apartment and he slept on my fold-out couch for a year. Just to keep me there. And he just moved in and we found our own rhythm and our own life, but he wouldn't let me go. He said, no, you're not, don't come here, I'll come to you. And he moved out and it kept me in town. And with a year later, things started to kind of happen, but I don't tell a lot of people that, but that wouldn't be here if it weren't for him doing that, because that was an ultimate commitment. He dropped everything where he was and said, pack a bag, I will sleep on your couch. And that's what he did.

Do you still feel him?

I do.

I don't feel my brother, and I think it's because the nature of how he died and the colors, how he lived, but you do feel.

I do it's interesting when it is when it happens I went through a period where you know we all go through my brother had like for your brother to had troubles, and a regret I have is when he was going through some of those troubles I did a little bit of the this is, this is what you. You're not doing the things you're supposed to be doing and it was a little of the tough love big brother thing and I wish I'd had more grace and been more compassionate. Looking back at it. But at that time, you think, oh, come on, get your shit together kind of thing. And I regret that now, but I do still feel my brother. I feel a lot with music. There's not a night that goes by that there's a song called Sinners Like Me that was on my first album. And it's a line in it about a headstone and going to see my grandfather. And now I throw my brother and my grandfather in that when I do that line. So at least there, I feel him when I'm on stage.

Did you know your grandfather?

I did.

Wow, that's cool.

Yeah, I did. He was integral in my life. He's just a paternal figure. When I was growing up, taught me how to fish, taught me he was a chief of police in our hometown. They're just a bigger than life guy.

My uncle was a sheriff in a small town in Mississippi.

There you go. Where at in Mississippi?

My dad's from a tiny town called Quitman, near Meridian.

I know Meridian, I've been through Meridian.

Have you really?

Yeah. Okay. I played everywhere, Anderson.

Like you have been around I don't think there's a venue big enough for Meridian for you.

I think I probably played who knows what I did

We're gonna take a short break. More of my conversation with Eric Church in just a moment. Welcome back to my conversation with Eric Church.

There's another kind of connection that we have, which you don't know about, which is the Covenant school shooting, which happened in 2023. I recently was down in Nashville, and I interviewed Chad and Jada Scruggs, whose daughter Hallie was one of the kids killed in that school shooting. And I know your kids go to a school not far from there.

A mile and a half.

A mile and a half, and I know that was a huge...

Massive, yeah.

What about that?

Well first of all, there's a couple things you expect in life. You expect to drop your kids off at school and be able to pick them up from school. Like that's kind of a given in this country. That's at least for me, the way I grew up. And I think the hardest thing I've ever done is the day after the Covenant shooting, the people in Nashville decided that it was best for the kids to resume life and go back to school. Taking them to school that morning. And I had taken them to a thousand times and watching them walk in that school. I've never felt more helpless. I've had more anxiety and fear about that and what that was. And I remember, I didn't know what to do. And I pulled over in the parking lot. I kind of felt like I needed to be there. You feel like you, I'm not gonna leave. I'm gonna sit here all day if I have to, you know? Kind of you're guarding the sheep. And I pulled in the parking lot. I was lost in my own thoughts and really just going through all this. And I looked to my left and I looked at my right and there were parents down this entire line doing the same thing. They were doing the thing I was doing. Just sitting in the park. Just sitting there. Because nobody knew what to do. Nobody knew how to encounter the loss and the tragedy of what that was and thinking about sending your kid to school and then being killed by a shooter. It was incredibly helpless. That's the best word I have. It was helpless. And to this day, that's the hardest thing I've ever done. I've never had something like that emotionally.

Chad is actually the pastor at the school and I just want to play you, I just want you to meet them a little bit, I want you, I just wanna play a little good what I talk to, talk to them about.

What has grief been like for you?

It felt like everything collapsed, everything, internally. The pain that... It's just hard to endure and then you have to relearn how to do everything like how to eat. Sleep and just have a new relationship with pain and sadness and anger. There's been joy too, but the sadness has been, was just, I mean, overwhelming. I went into her room to lay on her bed to smell. I knew that would go, and I wanted...

You knew that you knew the smell would dissipate.

Oh yeah, yeah, and her blankie was there and everything was there.

And you could smell her then?

Oh yeah. Absolutely, yeah. That was true probably for a week or two after. So you're trying to get her back, and it's not possible, but you don't believe that. And so anything that... That draws that possibility closer. I wanted to be there for that. So, yeah, I went in and just laid on her bed and cried by myself.

Amazing people.

Yeah.

Has it gotten easier for you? Your brother's death, does carrying it get easier? Or do you feel like you still haven't really turned to it?

I think the more you bury stuff like that, which I'm prone to do, which we've talked about, the more it comes back in the most unexpected places, right, where you won't expect grief to my brother or whatever. Even the Covenant thing was a pretty traumatic, because I related that to Vegas. So for me, it was this perfect world, this bubble, right? And taking my kids to school in Nashville, Tennessee, to private school is a bubble. So, it's seeing how it's not a bubble. And I think the vulnerability of that, it's interesting where the more I've pushed that down, even though my brother died in 2018, so it's been eight years, and those things will come out of nowhere. I think that's probably just not dealing with it the right way, or maybe that's what we all deal with. Right? I don't know.

How do you see it coming? Like, bubbling, like, where do you it?

Oh, just out of nowhere. Just with emotion or with whatever. Just when you don't even see, I guess, I don't even know how to describe it. I just don't see it comin'. That train's not comin'. And then there it is, right? And actually, it's probably manifested more the last two or three years, I've had a lot of moments like that. And you would think... After five, six, seven years, that wouldn't happen. They would be less frequent. But I've found that they've been more frequent the last few years. So I don't know how to, I don't know. I mean, a counselor would tell you I probably should do some of that. It's been unexpected where some of this stuff's come from.

When I heard you used to have this bar where you play, people put away their phones and you sing songs which are more personal than maybe you put on an album.

Most of that is what I never put on the album. That was one of the first times it manifested, so this is a couple of years ago, and I would talk, because I didn't talk about my brother. I didn't talk about him with my family. It was like this

But after his death, you didn't talk about...

His impact, I mean, not... It's not what you did.

Not talk about it.

But it would come up, but we didn't talk about it. And my family's not great at that anyway. Did your mom or dad? Not really. I mean, my mom's gotten better at it. My dad's gotten better at. He struggled with that for a while, pretty bad. But I've gotten better. What happened to me when I did the, as long as it's like therapy, at Chiefs. Chiefs is the bar. The bar, right. I would sit there and I would play songs. I wrote a about my brother called Church Boys. And never been on the road, never been recorded, never will be. It was for me and those people in that room that came. And I would talk about that, and I would talk about almost dying. And I talked about Vegas. And I went through some things just in front of 500 strangers. But I'm the only one up there. They're not talking. I'm the only one talking. And I found myself just more and more just talking about it. And it actually helped a little bit. I've gotten better. With talking about my brother more, telling stories about my brother Moore. I mean, that was six years after he died before I could start doing that. I think some things like that, they either bubble or they burst, and somewhere in between is probably where I was.

I totally get that though for me it's very hard to talk about my brother even now like my voice starts to get funky on me which I can't even control which is weird.

How long has that been?

I mean I was 21 years old he was 23 so I'm 58 so I don't know I flunked math but yeah long time.

A long time.

Um, and, and I can't tell how much of it is just like the, the violence of his death and the fact that it was a suicide and you talk about, there were some things maybe you wish you'd done differently with your brother. When I realized my brother was going through some things, which was very quickly before he died, it all happened very fast, a matter of a month or a couple months, I could not deal with it. Like the idea that there was something going on with him. That did not fit into my plan of like me surviving and me propelling myself forward. And you were also young. I was a kid, yeah. And I couldn't figure out how to, we had both been raised in the same way or we both developed in the way and we both couldn't talk to each other. What's your mom do with it? He killed himself in front of her. He jumped off the balcony. You know, my mom had been through a lot as a little kid and she had this inner core that she would say. That was like this rock hard diamond that she felt that she developed as a little kid to get through her childhood that nothing could ever break. She had that idea in her mind. And so she mourned and grieved and cried and wailed and for a long time, and she was never the same, but I knew she could survive. I knew that she would survive. It never went away. It's impossible for something like that to go away.

It's impossible, you have kids now, it's impossible.

It's unimaginable to me. Is there anything else about loss or about grief that you think about?

Yes, I'm a religious person. I have a lot of faith. And that, as far as grief goes, with my beliefs and what I believe, that has sustained me and steeled me at times that I'm not a hundred percent sure with what I do for a living and how I do it, that I wouldn't have spun myself out of control. And, that is been at least an anchor for me that has kept me, I am not saying between the lines, but I'm going to say between buoys, and it's kept me somewhat moored to knowing and trusting my faith and my spirituality.

Is it the idea that you will see your brother again?

That's one, that's one thing, but it's also the idea that you trust that a higher power is in charge and nobody wants to go through this, but you understand, at least for me, that this was how it was supposed to happen and it's unfortunate and you use faith to deal with the next steps of that. It's a great thing to have. I can just speak from my own experience and that's the one thing I've learned about grief. Everybody always tell you. However you react is the way you're supposed to react. And I always thought that was funny when I first heard it, right? But I think that's right. Because there were times that I didn't know how to respond on things. Sometimes you almost, it's like you laugh. Like, and you don't know you shouldn't be laughing, right? It's stupid. Like you, but you, almost your body, it's the emotion of it. However you're react is the way your supposed to be react. And I think, that's just, grief is just a, it is a. It is just a different kind of thing, you know. It's nice. It's not.

I know a lot smarter people have said it more eloquently, but it's the weirdest thing. It's crazy to me. You can go your entire life running from it, just trying to ignore it and stuff, and it's just there waiting.

I worry in society now. We try to be so buttoned up and we try to pretend we're this and we're, as you go back to the, in the South where we had wakes. And I mean, funerals were as big as weddings. It was like three days. And even back in where you're in Mississippi, you were, they would sit up with the body. Yeah, it was a wake in your home.

There was no hiding. The kids were around the coffin.

The kids are playing around the coffins.

There was a guy in my dad's town named Mr. Raspberry who would show up apparently and would always like...

His name was Mr. Raspberry?

Mr.Raspberry and he would wail and cry and my dad as a kid turned to his aunt and was like, Why does Mr. Rasberry cry so much? And she was like well if you ask me, his bladder is just too close to his eyeballs. Which I think is great.

It is great. But I guess, if you look at it historically, we treated death different and grieving different than I think we treat it in this world, where everything's supposed to be buttoned up, you're worried, we don't want to expose onto that, we won't want to do this, we want to appear that we're whatever. And I think that's not the way to deal with it. I went through a thing probably a couple years ago where with My brother, I used to dread. The day he died. Every year on the calendar, it became this thing. What was the date? June 29th. I would dread it. And also, I would dred his birthday, which is August 17th. So those two days were the thing. I didn't just want it. They had two days to the calendar that I didn't wanna deal with. But I think over the last few years, three years maybe, I've started to where I could celebrate that day. He's got a daughter and she's gotten older. And I could celebrate that day versus dread that day. And I think that's progress. That's huge. That's progress, it's not the thing that, I wanna go from the end of June to July 4th weekend really quickly..

Everybody has those dates on the calendar. My dad's death day was January 5th. My brother's birthday is January 27, so.

There you go.

Yeah. The dreaded holidays. My mom started calling him.

I mean, that's key. I've had it. And you're going to get to this, too, probably. But this past year, we go to the mountains of North Carolina for Christmas, and I usually take my two boys, and we'll go shop for my wife, and go ride around. We have a day. And this past years, for the first time, as we were driving back to the house, and my son surprised me with it. And he goes, hey, I want to know more. Tell me about Uncle B. They called him Uncle B, and he said, tell me more about Uncle B. I realized I probably hadn't talked about it a lot, but you know what? For the next 30 minutes as I was driving, I told them stories that I probably shouldn't have told them. I don't think their mom would have been happy with it. We talked about. It's different too when your kids get older, and they're going to want to know some of these things. You know, and you can talk about some of this stuff.

I've had that happen too. My son will ask a question about my brother and even thinking about it, like sort of my eyes will burn a little bit and my voice will quiver like it is right now. But then I start telling him a story and I'm able to do it in a way that doesn't infuse it with anything other than this is the story and it's a funny story or whatever. And it's nice to be able to have that moment where you can tell the story that's free of the pain of it, and just, and for him it's just, there is no pain associated with it. It's just a story about this person he doesn't know, and it's kind of, it's lovely.

I think a lot of times, back to the death thing, I had another person tell me, very wise, he'd lost a lot people, and he said, that death happened that one time, but the life happened all the time up until that. And I think sometimes we get caught up in what happened, how it happened, when it happened. But we forget about all the stuff that happened up until that moment. So that's been something that I've learned, I guess.

Thank you so much for doing this.

Yeah, absolutely.

'Eric's latest album, Evangeline vs. The Machine, is available now, and you can see him live on his Free The Machine Tour this year. Next week, on Thursday, February 26th, join me at 9:15 p.m. Eastern for my live streaming show All There Is Live. Just go to CNN.com/AllThereIs, and you could watch it there. If you missed the livestream, it will be posted the following day for a week on the site. If there's something you've learned in your grief that you think would be helpful for others, feel free to leave us a voicemail at 404-827-1805. You can also send us a video message and email it to us at [email protected] or send it to on Instagram @AllThereIs. Thanks so much for listening. Wherever you are in the world and in your grief, you're not alone.