But there is a discomfort that surrounds grief. It makes even the most well-intentioned people unsure of what to say. And so many of the freshly bereaved end up feeling even more alone.

And after my mother's death I became more open to and empathetic about other people's struggles and losses.

My theory is this: Women falter when they're called on to be highly self-conscious about their talents. Not when they're called on to enact them.

Loss doesn't feel redeemable. But for me one consoling aspect is the recognition that, in this at least, none of us is different from anyone else: We all lose loved ones; we all face our own death.

Many Americans don't mourn in public anymore - we don't wear black, we don't beat our chests and wail.

Loss is so paradoxical: It is at once enormous and tiny.

The people we most love do become a physical part of us, ingrained in our synapses, in the pathways where memories are created.