Dying while doing what we love is how we’d all like to go out. But as I watched my friends risk everything for the thrill of the climb, I felt compelled to remind them of the difference between challenge and folly.
To distract ourselves from Dad's fatal diagnosis, my brother and I planted ourselves in front of the TV — inhaling a steady diet of "The Jetsons" and "The Dating Game."
A few weeks before Thanksgiving, my 12-year-old son went out to play in the rain and never came home. That year, everything about the holiday just felt wrong.
I had just given birth to my third child and was training for a half-marathon when I had a heart attack. And as I lay in my hospital bed, I could hear the woman in the next room dying.
Don't tell me hard it was to get to work during "superstorm" Sandy, or how long you lived without power. The hurricane killed my father right before my eyes.
My 13-pound Bichon Frisé was my best friend, my loyal companion and my professional buoy. So why isn't there a blueprint for mourning a pet who loved me as much as any human did?
And other lessons therapist Lori Gottlieb, the author of ‘Maybe You Should Talk To Someone,’ learned from her patients who are grieving — and those who are dying.