Two weeks ago, I sat frozen in shock on the floor of my dorm room. A man who I thought was my committed boyfriend had just gone and blocked me on all social media as if I had never existed. I thought things couldn't get any worse...but they did.

I opened Facebook for something to do and almost immediately got another, even bigger punch in the stomach. One of my best friend's brothers, Mark, was dead.

Mark and I had been in the same graduating class in high school. He was only 18. He was taking classes at the local community college. He wanted to join the Marines. He was just like any of us, really, a young man with a promising future and admirable goals.

I never knew Mark well, as we only had maybe one class together in middle school, but nonetheless I was hit rather hard by the news. Perhaps it was because I could tell how much pain my friend was in, and it radiated through him, making it hurt for me to see him so devastated by this unspeakable loss.

I watched him break down as we released balloons into the sky during the community vigil, stood there numb as the girl who had volunteered to sing “Amazing Grace” couldn’t even finish the song. I hugged him and stood by his side at the viewing, my first one ever and certainly my first time seeing an open casket. I felt my heart break and fall to my feet as Mark’s family said tearful goodbyes at the burial site before he was lowered into the ground, felt somewhat sincere in my prayers for the first time in my life, even though I was a Jew at a Catholic funeral and the language and customs were incredibly foreign to me.

Shaken to the core, I was in a daze for a while. I stayed up very late the night after the funeral and felt tears coming to my eyes (I don’t cry easily) as I struggled to fall asleep. I cycled erratically through the stages of grief and felt my empathy overwhelming me as I tried my best to help and counsel my best friend in the days following the service. To add to my stress, I was now behind on schoolwork, as I had skipped two classes to go to the funeral and been barely functional the rest of that day and night.

I knew I couldn’t keep going like this. That would tank my grades, my sleep, my eating habits, and my sanity. What in God’s name can I do about it, though? I thought to myself. The solution that eventually came to mind? Country music.

Mark had been a big fan of country. Though I didn’t dislike it, I had never really paid it much attention. To be honest with myself, I probably avoided the genre because it tended to make me emotional, and I hated having “the feels”. On the other hand, I thought it would be fitting to pay my own personal tribute to Mark’s life and memory by listening to some country music. I went on iTunes and bought what my friend had said were two of Mark’s favorite country songs, Tim McGraw’s “Humble and Kind” and “Knee Deep” by Zac Brown Band featuring Jimmy Buffett.

I was instantly hooked. The songs were catchy and poignant, and perfectly embodied Mark’s fun-loving and selfless spirit. My friend had said that “Knee Deep” was Mark’s song “when he was feeling worry-free.” That sentiment was certainly palpable in the song, with its upbeat melody and frequent mentions of paradise. That was where Mark was now—paradise, fishing to his heart’s content in rivers of root beer.

Listening to these songs over and over everywhere I went set the wheels in motion for me to reach acceptance, to understand the new normal in my life and in that of my friend and his family. I felt like I was helping Mark’s spirit live on, and that thought was incredibly comforting.

Thanks to Mark, I am now committed to always “hold the door, say please, say thank you” and “help the next one in line”. From what I’ve heard, Mark was about as “humble and kind” as one could get. I listened to his songs endlessly, and I think Mark could, in a metaphorical way, tell. I think his appreciative spirit reached down and gave me a pat on the shoulder, signaling for me to remember him positively, and that everything would be okay.

Though I wish it didn’t have to happen this way, I was grateful to have been exposed to so many new perspectives that week—a new faith, a new sense of spirituality, a new style of music, and new words to live by. Together, those things helped push me towards a new normal.