Patti Smith: The ‘Sacred Wounds’ of Grief

Anderson Cooper· Host0:01

This past Monday was the anniversary of my dad's death, January 5th. It's one of those dates on the calendar that I've always dreaded. I'm guessing you have them, too. Death days, birthdays, holidays, where the ache of loss is especially deep. I mentioned that dread on the New Year's Eve broadcast we did from Times Square a couple days ago, and I was stunned and moved by the response. Here's what I said that night. I started volunteering to work on New Year's Eve 20-something years ago, because since I was a kid, I've actually dreaded this night. And I think a lot of you may be out there watching, or watching it through different eyes than some of the people in this crowd. December 31st, 1977, I watched this ball drop at home with my brother Carter. I was 10, my dad was in the hospital. We knew it was bad, but not how bad. I remember this night all those years ago, watching Dick Clark and all the shots of the crowd that you're seeing right now, all the merriment and the people together, and I'd never felt so alone. My dad died five nights later, and my brother 10 years after that. And I mention this tonight because some of you watching right now, maybe a lot of you watching tonight, may see all these crowds and the merriment and feel alone even if there are others around you. Maybe someone you love is sick, or they've already crossed that mysterious threshold we know virtually nothing about, and you long to see them or hear them or feel them again. And maybe it's your dad who's died, or your