Six days earlier, I lost my voice on the 50-yard line at Lincoln Financial Field while singing the chorus of “Wherever I May Roam” with 47,778 Metallica fans during the band’s stop in Philly. I went to the show with my childhood friend, Tyler, and was riding high throughout the rest of the week thanks to a much-needed dose of metal ecstasy.

Tyler and I have been going to concerts since 2011, a live music tradition started by the reunion of our favorite band, Soundgarden. The four horseman of ’90s grunge — Matt Cameron, Ben Shepherd, Kim Thayil, and Chris Cornell — reunited for a summer tour that included a stop at Penn’s Landing’s Festival Pier. It was all I looked forward to that summer, even with an ace taking the mound for the Phillies 80 percent of the time.

We weren’t too far from the stage when the band entered to its Badmotorfinger deep cut “Searching with My Good Eye Closed.” By the second song, Superunknown’s hit “Spoonman,” I had been caught in a tornado of fans and thrown to the second row. Around me, a mother and daughter bonded over Down on the Upside’s “Blow Up the Outside World,” a guy dressed like Santa Claus (perhaps Santa Claus) rocked out to “Jesus Christ Pose,” and a grown man cried during the band’s seminal hit “Black Hole Sun.” I also cried during the Eagles’ Super Bowl victory.

Somewhere else in the standing-room-only crowd, our own Nick Carroll probably had his backpack full of beer.

But the highlight for me that night came during the band’s performance of “Outshined.” It was a moment for Chris to embrace the crowd, away from his microphone stand and Gibson ES-335. He reached out and touched the hands of those who were looking California, but feeling Minnesota. With my fist balled in the air, Chris’ bumped mine and cemented one of the best nights of my life.

After the show was over, I shuffled through the exiting crowd to find Tyler with tears in his eyes. It was almost the same way I found him after the Metallica show on May 12, 2017. But six days later, the tears that were shed haven’t yet stopped flowing and they aren’t tears of joy.

Waking up to news that my favorite artist, Chris Cornell, took his own life is a fresh wound a year later. Coming to terms that there won’t be another solo album, a Soundgarden show, or a possible reunion with Audioslave is something I’ve yet to accept. And, admittedly, I feel selfish in that regard because I’m sure it’s even more taxing to come to grips that your father, husband, or bandmate is no longer here. Across the board, it’s still a shock.

I remember a friend saying, “Really? Him?” It’s a fair question considering he didn’t show the symptoms of one who is on the cusp of no return. But that’s just it: who really does? Or even worse: who even notices?

What Chris’ death taught me, and perhaps the silver lining, is that a smile isn’t forever, especially behind closed doors. A person could appear “fine,” whatever that is, and might seem happy. But on the inside, behind that same smile, a person could be struggling with whether or not he/she wants to wake up in the morning.

We all learned not to judge a book by its cover, but sometimes, we forget to make an effort to open it. You never know if someone needs help writing the next chapter before they decide on ending the story.