Good morning, friends.

Wow, I am so humbled by your lovely notes in response to my piece, ‘Why All Love Stories Are Destined to End in Tragedy.’ I am making my way through your notes, and I will reply.

In the meantime, I’m sharing the post in its entirety below. Feel free to forward it to someone who may be struggling:

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In the seven years of publishing this newsletter, this is the first time I dare broach the topic of grief. Seven years — not once.

As I’ve told you before, I’m never sure how much personal information to share, but I’m writing this in hopes that it helps someone who may be reading right now.

Two family members who meant a lot to me passed away within a month of each other. Since February, my family and I have been trying to navigate the waves of grief that strike at the most bizarre moments.

Logically, my brain knows that death is a part of life. Emotionally, not so much.

I can tell you exactly where I was and what I was doing the second I got the news that a close person died: I am 13 years old getting ready to go to my friend’s birthday at the Cheesecake Factory when I see my mom’s facial expression as she hangs up the phone. I am 20 years old staring at my college textbooks in my room after I read a somber text message. I am 32 years old working on this newsletter when my husband says, ‘I need to tell you something.’

The memories are so vivid that when I bring them to the forefront of my mind, my body reacts as if it’s happening in this very moment.

For the last few months, I’ve been thinking a lot about this idea that life is equal part love story and equal part tragedy. Each is a different side of the same coin.

I once heard author Nicholas Sparks say this in an interview:

“To me, love and tragedy are linked. You can’t have one without the other. And the greater the love, the greater the tragedy.

“You see, every day millions and millions of people around the world die, and we all go on, we all show up to work, we don’t care. But the moment that it’s someone you love — your sister, your spouse, your grandparents, your friend — it’s like your world collapses. And the greater the love, the greater the tragedy.

“So, by definition, all love stories have to end in tragedy.”

As the author of The Notebook, A Walk to Remember, Dear John, and A Message in a Bottle, Sparks describes his genre of novels as “tragic love stories.”

As they say, art imitates life, and Sparks’ life has been full of tragedy. When he was 23, his mom was in a fatal horseback riding accident. His sister had a brain tumor and died in the hospital. His father died in a car crash. His wife had a miscarriage early in their marriage. His second son Ryan was diagnosed as severely autistic.

“I think for most people, this is part and parcel of life,” he says. “At the same time, it’s often moments like those that make you question things. And so to me, it just reflects the truth.”

No one can avoid grief. It’s only a matter of time.

The most impressive people to me are those who have undergone tremendous amounts of tragedy yet they’ve managed not to get hardened by it. Unfortunately, the reaction that comes most naturally is to turn toward the dark side of the self — anger, volatility, and withdrawal.

It’s (much) harder to maintain a light-hearted approach to life and radiate even more kindness in the face of impossible sorrow.

Keanu Reeves is someone who is no stranger to tragedy. He has become a legendary actor, producer, and director, but he also has a reputation for being a genuinely good person. He's become known for his random acts of kindness, of which there are many.

Despite everything he's been through, Reeves teaches us that tragedy can be used to create a beautiful life filled with joy and kindness. He says, "If you have been brutally broken but still have the courage to be gentle to other living beings, then you’re a badass with a heart of an angel.”

Reeves has had many opportunities to lose hope and give up on love — yet he hasn't.

"I guess living without love, without experiencing it or being able to give it is pretty strong punishment," he says.

In the end, he's concluded that even in the face of tragedy, you can still thrive. "No matter what’s going on in your life, you can overcome it," Reeves says. "Life is worth living.”

To best illustrate this point, I’ll leave you with this incredible description of the grieving process by a Reddit commenter who described himself as an “old guy” who has lost parents, friends, best friends, acquaintances, co-workers, grandparents, relatives, teachers, mentors, students, neighbors. (I first came across this in the newsletter, My Sweet Dumb Brain.)

“I wish I could say you get used to people dying. I never did. I don't want to. It tears a hole through me whenever somebody I love dies, no matter the circumstances. But I don't want it to "not matter." I don't want it to be something that just passes.

“My scars are a testament to the love and the relationship that I had for and with that person. And if the scar is deep, so was the love. So be it. Scars are a testament to life. Scars are a testament that I can love deeply and live deeply and be cut, or even gouged, and that I can heal and continue to live and continue to love. And the scar tissue is stronger than the original flesh ever was. Scars are a testament to life. Scars are only ugly to people who can't see.

“As for grief, you'll find it comes in waves. When the ship is first wrecked, you're drowning, with wreckage all around you. Everything floating around you reminds you of the beauty and the magnificence of the ship that was, and is no more. And all you can do is float. You find some piece of the wreckage and you hang on for a while. Maybe it's some physical thing. Maybe it's a happy memory or a photograph. Maybe it's a person who is also floating. For a while, all you can do is float. Stay alive.

“In the beginning, the waves are 100 feet tall and crash over you without mercy. They come 10 seconds apart and don't even give you time to catch your breath. All you can do is hang on and float. After a while, maybe weeks, maybe months, you'll find the waves are still 100 feet tall, but they come further apart. When they come, they still crash all over you and wipe you out. But in between, you can breathe, you can function. You never know what's going to trigger the grief. It might be a song, a picture, a street intersection, the smell of a cup of coffee. It can be just about anything...and the wave comes crashing. But in between waves, there is life.

“Somewhere down the line, and it's different for everybody, you find that the waves are only 80 feet tall. Or 50 feet tall. And while they still come, they come further apart. You can see them coming. An anniversary, a birthday, or Christmas, or landing at O'Hare. You can see it coming, for the most part, and prepare yourself. And when it washes over you, you know that somehow you will, again, come out the other side. Soaking wet, sputtering, still hanging on to some tiny piece of the wreckage, but you'll come out.

“Take it from an old guy. The waves never stop coming, and somehow you don't really want them to. But you learn that you'll survive them. And other waves will come. And you'll survive them too. If you're lucky, you'll have lots of scars from lots of loves. And lots of shipwrecks.”

— Polina

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COMMA CON: I’ll be speaking at CommaCon this month! CommaCon is described as a “digital series where the world’s best creators reveal how to elevate your company’s content into a marketing superpower.” Come join me on June 25 at 3pm EST! Attendance is free. Register here.

PROFILES.

— Venture capital’s First Lady
— The detective who cracked Tupac’s murder
— The comedian who roasted Tom Brady
— The greatest freestyle swimmer of all time
— The super-ager who died at 110
— The orthopedic shoe everyone is wearing [**HIGHLY RECOMMEND**]

PEOPLE TO KNOW.

Venture capital’s First Lady: Before she was Connecticut’s First Lady, Annie Lamont was making early bets on health tech — and reaping big returns. She has returned an estimated $1.5 billion to investors over the last decade. Now, four decades into investing, she’s reinventing herself again for the AI era. She says, “It is not about being a one hit wonder in venture. It is about reinventing yourself across different cycles.” (Forbes; if you can’t access the article, try this link)

“Everybody should be including AI in everything they do.”

The detective who cracked Tupac’s murder: Greg Kading is the controversial detective who cracked the case on the 1996 murder of rapper Tupac Shakur, connected Sean Combs to the crime, and maybe solved Biggie’s too. This profile/investigation begs the question: Could the cop who cracked one of the most notorious cold cases in history also have a hand in its undoing? (New York Magazine; if you can’t access the article, try this link)

“The streets know before we know.”

The comedian who roasted Tom Brady: The Roast of Tom Brady recently aired on Netflix to nearly 14 million viewers in its first week. Comedian Nikki Glaser was quickly, if unofficially, deemed the night’s winner. Kevin Hart, the event’s host, was visibly moved by her set, nearly choking up when he came onstage after she walked off. “That’s the beauty of roasting,” he said to the crowd. “There’s an art to it, and when you get it right, goddamn it’s amazing.” Glaser has been in the business for just over 20 years, but her set on the Tom Brady roast seems to have shifted something. (New York Magazine; if you can’t access this article, try this link)

“When I got up there, I literally felt bad.”

The greatest freestyle swimmer of all time: Olympic swimmer Katie Ledecky has won 10 Olympic medals, seven of them gold, and 26 World Championship medals, 21 of them gold. She focuses on every detail of her stroke — how her hand enters the water, how she rotates, how she breathes — while tuning out the stressors of everyday life. Katie Ledecky is among the world’s most accomplished athletes, but people seem to know little about Katie Ledecky, the human. And unfortunately, I don’t think this profile does a great job of telling us more about who she is or what she believes, but it’s a more personal glimpse at one of the most dominant swimmers of our time. (The New York Times; if you can’t access the article, try this link.)

“She doesn’t swim like a man. She swims like Katie Ledecky.”

The super-ager who died at 110: Morrie Markoff, a supercentenarian blogger and scrap-metal sculptor who was believed to be the oldest man in the United States and whose brain has been donated for research on super-aging, died on June 3. He was 110. He was notable not only for his longevity but also for his unusual lucidity for his age. Up to his final months, he pored over The Los Angeles Times every morning, discussed the war in Ukraine and other world events and posted dispatches about his life on his blog. (I am hopeful that I will still be writing The Profile when I am 110!) Here’s what he attributed to his longevity to. (The New York Times; if you can’t access the article, try this link)

COMPANIES TO WATCH.

The orthopedic shoe everyone is wearing: Ugh, Birkenstocks. To my dismay, this shoe is everywhere and worn by everyone. Here’s the wild story of how the 250-year-old German orthopedic shoe company (with lots and lots of family drama) transformed itself into a luxury behemoth. (Bloomberg; if you can’t access the article, try this link)

“Birkenstock was founded nearly 250 years ago and has grown to become one of the few iconic brands in the footwear industry.”

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