MY FRIEND JODY IS sitting in my office, her head in her hands. Her mom is dying of a brain tumor and it is exhausting. Dying is exhausting. “But I’m sure you are feeling so very fortunate for all the shared time you had together,” I say. She looks up abruptly and then immediately catches my mood. “Yes, so very fortunate,” she replies with a tone that suggests homicide is a viable response to people who say these kinds of things. “People keep telling me how fortunate I am.” I let the sarcasm drop from my voice and put my hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry, hon. I wish I never had to hear the
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