Discover a sanctuary of perspectives, tools, and shared experiences written for people living with grief.
Excerpted from DEATH IS BUT A DREAM by Christopher Kerr, MD, PhD and Carine Mardorossian, PhD. Published on February 11, 2020 by Avery, and imprint of Penguin Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Random House, LLC. Copyright © 2020 by William Hudson, LLC
Did you ever go for a walk with a destination in mind that you were determined to reach? You wanted to get there, you had to get there, but you were slowed down because of a pebble in your shoe? You didn't want to stop to remove the pebble because you were afraid it would slow you down too much to stop? And if you just grin and bear it, you'll get to your destination, right?
We can never be absolutely prepared for losses, even if common sense tells us that they are inevitable. And when this happens, the only thing we can do is accept our grief, recognize our feelings and acknowledge the fact that life goes on anyway. Life continues for you, including - and therefore, taking care of yourself is the best thing you can do for yourself, your family and your beloved people who are with you now. And not with you either. Let's try to get started.
Dear friends.
When we hear of a death or a group of deaths, we think of it as a tragedy. It is tragic to us because we are left behind. It is especially tragic to us if we love or are close to the one who died. Praise God! Death is not the end!
Tragedy
I got to see Kobe play once.
It was the semi final game of the 2012 Olympics. Team USA was playing Spain (I think). I remember thinking what a treat it was to be at the Olympics and getting to watch a group of people who had dedicated their lives to be the best in the world at what they did.
The last 48 hours I've been reflecting a lot on my own life in light of the tragedy of Kobe Bryant's unexpected passing on Sunday. There are a few thoughts that I want to pass onto you {First Name}.
My Dad died on Monday February 1st, 2010.
I had the good fortune to speak with my Dad on Sunday January 31st, 2010.
I say good fortune because looking back on that day 10 years later, I feel like I won the lottery having had the opportunity to speak with him just one day before his passing.
My Dad and I did not talk regularly – I held onto childhood baggage that I allowed to keep me at a distance. Our relationship was alright, which I recognize is much better than the relationships many kids have with their parents.
My Final Day With My Daughter
As our final day in Children’s Hospital unfolded, one of the nurses asked if I wanted to hold my little girl. Of course, I immediately replied, “Yes.”
