My book 'Trust Your Heart', which is the story of my life, will

“My book 'Trust Your Heart', which is the story of my life, will be followed by 'Singing Lessons', a memoir of love, loss, hope, and healing, which talks about the death of my son and the hope that has been the aftermath of the healing from that tragedy.” Thus spoke Judy Collins, the singer whose voice carried both joy and sorrow across generations. In these words, she reveals not only the art of writing, but the art of living—how from the darkest grief may emerge the brightest hope, and how the voice that trembles with tears can also become the voice that heals. Her testimony is the cry of one who has descended into the valley of loss and returned with wisdom, not to hoard, but to share.

At the heart of her quote lies two great journeys. The first is in “Trust Your Heart,” the story of her life, a call to listen to the quiet compass within, even when the world pulls in countless directions. The second is in “Singing Lessons,” which flows from tragedy itself, where Collins bares the pain of losing her son, and yet also proclaims that out of the ashes came healing and hope. This is not the shallow hope of forgetting, but the deeper hope of remembering with love and choosing to live on with strength.

The ancients knew that from suffering often comes the deepest wisdom. The Greek tragedians told of heroes who endured terrible trials, yet through their losses gained a clearer vision of life’s meaning. The Psalms, sung in the old temples, were often laments, yet within those laments rose the seeds of comfort and trust in God. Collins, a singer of her own age, follows the same path: her “singing lessons” are not of scales and notes alone, but of how the human soul can sing again after it has been broken.

History too gives us examples of this truth. Consider Abraham Lincoln, who buried a beloved child while carrying the weight of a nation in civil war. His speeches, born of grief, carried a depth of compassion that might never have been found without sorrow. Or think of Viktor Frankl, who survived the horrors of the camps and yet proclaimed that hope is the last and greatest freedom, the power to give meaning even to suffering. Collins’ story of her son’s death and her healing places her in this same river of witnesses: those who turn tragedy into testimony, and grief into guidance.

Her words also teach us that healing is not forgetting. The pain of loss does not vanish, nor should it, for love itself leaves an eternal mark. Rather, healing is learning to carry sorrow without letting it crush the soul, to honor memory without being bound by despair. Collins calls this a lesson in singing because, like music, it requires practice, patience, and courage. The voice may falter, but with time it regains its beauty. So too does the spirit, when nourished by hope, learn to rise again.

The lesson for us is this: when tragedy strikes, do not silence your heart. Let it grieve, let it weep, let it remember—but also let it heal. For hope is the melody that follows the silence of loss, and healing is the harmony that comes when love is stronger than despair. Each of us must learn such “singing lessons” in our lives, for no one is spared sorrow. But we can choose whether sorrow will silence us forever, or whether we will raise our voices once more in courage and compassion.

Practical actions follow. When you face loss, write your own story, as Collins did—whether in journals, poems, or simple words. Share your grief, for in sharing comes comfort. Seek the lessons hidden in sorrow: patience, empathy, resilience. And above all, trust your heart to guide you forward, even when the way is shrouded in darkness. For though the heart may be wounded, it still knows how to find the light.

Thus Judy Collins’ words shine as both lament and hymn: from loss comes healing, from tragedy comes hope. She teaches us that to live fully is not to avoid sorrow, but to embrace it, transform it, and then sing again. And so I say to you: when life wounds you, do not remain silent. Sing your lessons into the world. For your song may heal not only yourself, but also those who listen and walk the same road of grief toward the dawn of hope.