By Leora Katz

The Tragically Hip playing their last show at the ACC, 2016 | Photo by Leora Katz

I didn’t want to go.

I hadn’t been to a Tragically Hip show in 15 years, so when the tour was announced, I didn’t feel compelled to go — even knowing it was my last chance. Between the music, the nostalgia, and Gord Downie’s illness, I assumed the concerts would be overwhelmingly emotional and I couldn’t help but think: Why would I make myself sad?

Tickets went on sale and Facebook exploded with some who were lucky, and many more who weren’t. “Glad I didn’t try that,” I thought.

And then it was Wednesday, August 10, the night of the first Toronto show. I was at a Blue Jays game, but Snapchat, Instagram and Facebook made it clear something special was happening at that other big venue up the street. I felt a weird and unexpected little spark…

I might need to go to this.

When I got to work on Thursday, I didn’t need to think before choosing my music for the day. For the first time in a decade, I put on The Tragically Hip.

It’s amazing how you don’t forget songs. How lyrics roll off your tongue even though it was 16 years ago when you lay on your bed, turned your Christmas lights on, slid the CD booklet out the plastic case, and read the lyrics as Downie belted them from your boombox speakers. It’s amazing how music that matters latches on to your soul like a childhood friend, a slight and comforting whisper, “Don’t worry, I’m with you for life.”

With goosebumps on my arms and glossy eyes, I turned to those I knew were at the show to find out how it was. The response was unanimous. Words like “powerful” and “fantastic,” “emotional” and “incredible” flooded in, pushing me to consider the path of the impossible ticket. Then a friend bluntly and perfectly stated:

You already know you need to be there.

A relentless search later, I got myself some tickets and became more excited for a show than I had been in a very, very long time.