Whose grief is worse: the doctor who loses her patient, or the family who loses their beloved dog? Which situation is harder: a long, debilitating illness, or a sudden accident? What community suffers more: the neighborhood devastated by a hurricane, or the town shocked by a mass shooting? I hear
“You were so lucky to have her for so long.” Martha was 75 years old when her mother, Rose, died. Rose had just turned 101. Martha’s friends comforted her by saying how lucky Rose was to live so long, and how lucky Martha was to have that time with her.
In the early days of my working life, one of my colleagues returned from bereavement leave. Her husband had just passed away, and it was her first day back at work. I froze when I saw her walking down the hallway. I wanted her to know I was there for
When we think of who is working on the front lines of grief and loss, we picture hospice nurses, firefighters, and counselors. We imagine doctors and first responders. But do you think of teachers? In the early days of my career, I never would have put grief work and teachers
Loss doesn’t only take away a person you love. It also takes away a part of yourself. When you first experience a loss, you might feel lost and afloat. It’s hard to remember who you are when you are trying to make sense of who you are not anymore—a caretaker,
Welcome to the next installment of our monthly series, Recipes for Resilience, meant to inspire you to reflect, connect, and develop tools that help you on your grief and loss journey. This month’s recipe is called When I Say “I’m Fine,” I Might Be Masking My Feelings. It’s a look
