Tonight, I had the absolute privilege and pleasure to attend the Linkin Park concert in Raleigh. Let me tell you, the concert was AMAZING. I dare say it was close to life-altering. I can’t even put it into words exactly, but I’m certainly going to try.
Tonight, I cried more tears of joy—more tears of pain and suffering, and more tears of release than I have in a long time.
At the concert, I found something I didn’t know I was still missing—permission.
Permission to feel, deeply and unapologetically.
To let pain and joy exist in the same breath.
To scream into the night, not to be heard by anyone around me, but to finally hear myself.
And even though Chester is no longer here in the way he once was, I felt him.
I felt him in the pulse of every beat, in each note the band played, and in the space between the lyrics.
I especially felt him through Emily’s voice, the band’s new lead singer. Even though she has her own distinct voice, I felt she truly channeled Chester tonight.
Chester’s voice may have gone silent, but tonight, I felt him speak. I felt his presence.
Once again, feeling him give me the strength, and permission, to feel—to SCREAM—to let out all of the anguish with no fear, in only the way he could.
There was something so raw about letting those emotions come to the surface… and not hiding them.
No masks, no explanations. Just the truth of it. That kind of release—it’s rare. It’s sacred.
And I think that’s what made it so beautiful.
And as I left the venue, still buzzing with sound and charged with emotion, I realized:
Maybe healing doesn’t always come in silence.
Sometimes, it comes in the scream.
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