In my own experience, both professionally and personally, crying is one of the body's ways to bring itself back to balance. It is not necessarily a sign of weakness or even sadness. Infants cry to communicate with their universe. New mothers cry... a lot. And so do the rest of us.
As I left church following yesterday's service, my heart was filled to overflowing with gratitude and joy. By Monday morning the warm glow of joy and celebration was only a memory as I looked at my schedule and my longer than normal to do list.
It was the first time I'd felt the full force of having lost Ed to Alzheimer's. The first time I'd cried about it. For in all those years, I'd never realized until right then just how much I'd loved Ed -- and loved him still.
I would write the saddest opera of all time, then find the greatest voices in the world to perform it with the best orchestra in a perfect hall with the most appreciative, music-loving audience.
The World Without You is a heart-searing, eye-tearing, and soul-touching novel about loss and resilience, family and individuals, and the enduring connections that bind us together, no matter how awful a wrenching we endure.
Redemption and forgiveness are not freely given or passively obtained -- they are earned and require actions beyond jail times, beyond any financial settlement.
To be strong is not to outrun sadness, but rather to learn to embrace it when it is here, to take good care of it so that it can heal. This is a warrior's strength, a wise parent's strength.
Consoling a griever can feel like a frightening task. However, if you follow these six tips designed to open your heart and offer your support, your grieving friend will be most grateful.
Blue Nights is the story of Joan Didion's craving for communion between the "I" of her individual event of loss and grief, and the "we" of its universal experience.
It is more than keeping their memory alive or remembering their birthdays... as important as these practices are; it is about sustaining the ideals, values and passions that they cared about so deeply.
Being present is not simply a matter of noticing that you're happy or depressed. It's a matter of being fully engaged with your emotions and, therefore, your life.
As Mother's Day approaches, my stomach begins to ache. It's a familiar, if old pain, tucked away in my soul, born of the loss of my son, Dan, killed at the age of 22 while working as Reuters photojournalist in Somalia more than 17 years ago.