Those were my notes while reading this little book, but for a long time I couldn’t find them... and thought I would have to write something up for this blog based on my memory of the book... and the only memory of the book I had two years later was of how shocking and traumatic Sheryl Sandberg’s husband’s death was, and how awful it was for her to have to tell all the people to whom it mattered -- their kids, his parents, his siblings, her parents, her siblings, all their friends. I could really relate to the agony of the latter activity. But this whole section was very vivid.
I don’t now remember the advice or ‟the message” at all... and now, having found my notes, it’s funny to see that there must have been a message of some kind. It was completely nonabsorbent.
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