Father dating after mothers death
The woman who urged the world to lean in is now undertaking a campaign to help people push on, to bounce back from horrible misfortune.Her newest book, , is a primer for those who are bereaved, to help them recover and find happiness.We have no control over the content of these pages. All models are at least 18 years old according to 18 U. For Dave Goldberg, May 1, 2015, was the best day with the worst ending.But it’s also a guide for the unscathed on how to help people “lean in to the suck,” as Sandberg’s rabbi puts it.She wrote the book with her friend and collaborator Adam Grant, a psychologist and the author of the best sellers .When he climbed on the fitness-center treadmill that Friday, nothing but blue sky appeared ahead: his company was doing well, his children were healthy, and he was as in love as ever with his superwoman wife Sheryl Sandberg, Facebook’s COO and the author of . Goldberg—Goldie to his friends—was only 47 when his younger brother Rob, Rob’s wife and Sandberg found him lying in a halo of blood, his skin blue. “I remember not being sure if I could feel a pulse or if it was really my own heart pounding.” Goldberg was rushed to San Javier Hospital, a dimly lit medical center.Sandberg and one of her best friends, Marne Levine, sat on the linoleum floor waiting for a doctor to give them the news they didn’t want.
“You can give in to the void, the emptiness that fills your heart, your lungs, constricts your ability to think or even breathe. These past 30 days, I have spent many of my moments lost in that void.” Suddenly, Superwoman became very human. “She was able to find some gratitude,” says Grant, “and really think about how she could share the experience she had in a way that would help other people.” Sandberg’s 2015 post has now drawn almost 75,000 comments, including ones from Facebook employees who didn’t know how to react to their famous boss, who occasionally broke down in tears in a meeting—which, as Sandberg writes, is not the kind of disruption Silicon Valley is looking for.
She can afford round-the-clock therapy, and her network can put her in touch with anyone. (And in case she needed a reminder, just last month, author Camille Paglia called her “insufferably smug and entitled.”) But she has deployed a disadvantage as her ultimate asset: vulnerability.
In June 2015, a month into her widowhood, after a particularly lousy day, Sandberg posted on Facebook the social-media equivalent of Edvard Munch’s Scream.
The grieving are often isolated when they most need community.
That’s a problem that Sandberg, now 47, can work with.