Rest in Peace seems most appropriate for a woman whose life was anything but restful or peaceful. Elizabeth Edwards died yesterday after a long fought battle with cancer. It seems all the more sorrowful that she posted a goodbye message to Facebook followers mere hours before her death, "The days of our lives, for all of us, are numbered. We know that. And, yes, there are certainly times when we aren't able to muster as much strength and patience as we would like. It’s called being human. But I have found that in the simple act of living with hope, and in the daily effort to have a positive impact in the world, the days I do have are made all the more meaningful and precious. And for that I am grateful." Elizabeth's life was full of both tragedy and triumph. Meeting the love of her life in law school and divorcing him 30+ years later after he fathered an illegitimate child. Starting a family then losing a 16-year-old son. Supporting a husband's political ambitions and discovering you have breast cancer. And accepting, at 61, that you have terminal cancer and are now a single parent. And most of this under the intense scrutiny of the public eye. What, if anything, have we learned from Elizabeth? Elizabeth was very public about her insecurities in both interviews and in her two books Saving Graces and Resilience . Too often I think we see women--perhaps our own female family members--simply "make it through". My mother nursed my father as he suffered through terminal cancer. She took extended leave from work and was there through the ugliest parts and there when he died. She stayed amazingly strong. And it made me feel like I should stay strong but also scared because I felt weak for wanting to have a good cry, for feeling empty. Only later did I learn (at a family reunion no less) that her grief was immense. I knew she was suffering, but I had no idea it was as bad as when I over heard her describe (to another aunt) days of not remembering what she ate (she lost so much weight) of deep loneliness (crying at his gravesite) and sickening depression (she lost her other half of 40 years). I felt horrible listening to her describe what she went through. She never said anything to us kids, but I was also relieved to know that my own grief wasn't weakness. Strength is seen as your resiliency to weather whatever comes your way. And we women weather much in our lives. But opening up about our suffering (or struggles) isn't weakness either. And Elizabeth Edwards never asked for our sympathy. She simply shared her life moments (and the upfront, ask-what-you-want interviews gained her respect, not sympathy) and in those public moments of weakness we saw her strength. And that's a lesson we should take with us. That tragedy isn't tragic. That sharing your story to other women may inspire them in a way you never knew. When I had my miscarriage in October, I was very worried about what would happen if I told people. Only a few knew I was pregnant! And I know plenty of women who kept their miscarriage(es) a secret. I chose to be honest (painfully so at times) and I received feedback from so many people, family, long lost college friends, old colleagues. I didn't sound strong in my postings. I felt weak and scared and angry and nothing seemed uplifting except the knowledge that someone else connected to me in a way. And it made my struggle, and my outlook on my struggle, much different. I know it helped save me from a deep depression. But now as we mourn Elizabeth message boards are full of hateful notes about John. And can you blame anyone? How could he? A dying wife! A floozy! An illegitimate kid! The lies! But remember who Elizabeth Edwards was and that she was a great mom with great kids who do not need to hear how horrible their father is at a time like this. He is there to comfort them. And, like it or not, they do need him. They need him to remember her. And his pain must be ten-fold. Knowing that he cannot ever be the man he was with Elizabeth, at least not in the public eye. So all you haters out there re-think your words. Would you want your child, nephew, niece etc. reading about how awful your dad is just days after your mom died? Mourning is a time of letting go. What good does it do us to berate John? Elizabeth wouldn't have wanted it to be that way. And if she has taught us anything it's that forgiveness is a necessary quality in a well-lived life. RIP Elizabeth.