There's a moment at the end of the movie Tender Mercies where Mac Sledge, a washed up country singer, learns about the death of his troubled teen-age daughter, whom he didn't get to see grow up. His daughter is a casualty, along with divorce and a ruined career, of Mac's boozing. When Mac makes friends with a young widow and her son, Sonny, he sobers up and slowly attempts to redeem his life. But it's a fragile process. Shortly after Mac is reunited with his estranged daughter, he learns she's been killed in a car accident. And the audience's reaction to this news is: of course. It's like Lucy with the football, when she promises Charlie Brown she won't pull the ball away at the last minute.

"I never did trust happiness very much," Mac Sledge says after his daughter's death It's a deeply resonant line that confirms our deepest fears: At that moment when happiness seems most attainable, the other shoe is going to drop. I used to weep when I watched Tender Mercies until my husband pointed out the movie isn't really a downer. In the last seconds of the movie, Sonny throws a football to Mac and he catches it. Mac throws it back to Sonny and they continue tossing it back and forth in the harsh Texas sunlight. Life goes on. Roll the credits.

Brenda Paik Sunoo has been down this road before. Sunoo, 53, and her husband, Jan, lost their son, Tommy, in 1994. Their son had collapsed on his high school basketball court one day during gym. A few hours later he was pronounced dead at a Southern California hospital. Cause of death: congestive heart failure, due to chronic asthmatic bronchitis. Nearly eight years later, Sunoo, a grief counselor, has some hard-won insights about loss, death, and the meaning of life. She recently founded Compassion At Work, a company specializing in grief recovery at the workplace. A certified Grief Recovery Institute specialist and Reiki practitioner, Sunoo helps corporate, government and nonprofit organizations customize their bereavement programs to address losses due to natural death, long-term illnesses, workplace violence, catastrophic events, downsizing and more. She and her husband, a federal mediator and dispute resolution expert, have given grief workshops throughout the United States, Canada, and Australia.

In the wake of the Sept. 11 attacks--and at the close of a frenetic holiday season that has left many people feeling hung over with depression and anxiety--Sunoo urges us to remember that even in the toughest times, beauty still unfolds. "Even in the midst of grief, you can feel moments of joy and laughter," says Sunoo, a petite, animated woman with a direct manner and earthy laugh. "And that's OK, if not a blessing."

But as we reflect on the past year and prepare for one ahead, sometimes it's hard to distinguish whether life is about someone yanking the football away or our own cussed determination to stay in the game, despite our grief. In mid-December, three months after the Sept. 11 bombing of the World Trade Towers, teams of construction workers in New York were still digging through the rubble, trying to find the remains of the dead. During the week of Dec. 10, a Wall Street Journal/NBC News poll said that 85 percent of the American people believed they would be attacked by terrorists again. But here it is, January already, that time of year when we're supposed to be browsing through gardening catalogs planning next summer's garden or trying to get back on a budget after doing our part to "stimulate" the economy in December. In short, we're trying to get a grip, only this year, it's hard not feel a little fatalistic about the future when the world seems so uncertain. How do we put our lives back together again?

It's not easy. Many human resources professionals, supervisors and managers are ill-equipped to deal with death and grief in the workplace, to say nothing of depression and emotional stress, Sunoo says. "Death and dying is an 'ickey-poo' subject," she says. "People don't feel comfortable talking about it. It's not their fault. It only reflects our culture. Even with all the recent specials on 'post traumatic stress syndrome,' what employers don't realize is that we've only seen the tip of the iceberg."As Sunoo points out, the emotional upheaval that accompanies the death of a loved one doesn't magically disappear after the typical three-day bereavement leave. "The (healing) process is a long one, during which we also can lose our motivation and creativity. Plainly, every one of us is affected at some time in our working lives. Yet the painful passage--death and grief--is one we fear facing the most. It's one HR managers woefully are unprepared to handle--often because they may be the ones in denial as well.

"What employers don't realize is that ignoring grief and loss costs them more in the end," she says. "My vision is to transform the culture of ignoring grief to creating a culture of compassion at the workplace. I want to focus on HR professionals, supervisors and managers. They're the ones who either support you or push you over the edge."

The compassion Sunoo received at Workforce (the magazine where she worked at the time of her son's death) was the exception, rather than the rule. "When Tommy died, the CEO, publisher, and editor-in-chief immediately wrote me notes of sympathy. The editor-in-chief was the one who drove me to the hospital. He also attended the funeral. They told me I still had a job to return to, and to take as much time as I needed. I'd been on the job a month. I took one month off. When I came back, I was given a reasonable workload, greater responsibilities as I grew stronger, flexibility to work at home when I needed it. I even remember my CEO and editor taking me to lunch several times. That meant a lot.

"And most importantly, my co-workers didn't ignore my grief. I remember one Friday night right before Mother's Day. One of my fellow employees put her hand on my shoulder and asked, 'Will you be OK this weekend?' She didn't have any children herself, but she was very sensitive to ask and acknowledge how hard it would be to 'celebrate.' I was shocked by her courage and compassion to be so direct and thoughtful. What hurts the most is being ignored or dismissed. People often become more self-conscious about themselves instead of thinking more about the other person. They worry that they'll make you cry. But you can't make someone cry. They already feel their pain. Tears are normal and OK. We cry out of love. It's a poor excuse for not reaching out."

Although Sunoo and her husband had a close family and many supportive friends, they started attending the Orange County chapter of The Compassionate Friends, a grief support group, because they needed to be with people who had faced the same loss. It was a place where they didn't have to be strong, edit what they said, or listen to people tell them, "He's in a better place" or "Have you thought about getting a pet?" Brenda Sunoo later co-facilitated the group for a year and honed her skills in helping others face their grief and learn to heal.

She learned there is no right or wrong way to grieve. "As long as they aren't doing anything destructive or self-destructive, people need to heal in their own ways. For those who are married, communication is key. So is staying open and vulnerable. After a day at work, check in with each other," she says. Just listen with your heart. Don't judge with your mind and mouth." Support groups, therapy, medication, if necessary--all these can be helpful. For those who don't feel comfortable sharing in a group, there are a lot of online resources, including discussion boards where one can connect to others in private. And it's important to keep a sense of humor.

Within a year of Tommy's death, Sunoo says she and her husband took salsa lessons, started "Date Night" every Friday night, and seven years later, they bought a VW camper like the one they drove when they were first married, so they could take off for overnight trips like they did in the 70s. Later, she learned the importance of exercise. "After Tommy died, I gained 20 pounds in two years," she says. "It took me years before I finally took it off. And I'm barely five feet tall. I should've exercised--at least walked--every day. It would've helped with the depression. Instead, I ate a lot of Swiss chocolates, roasted duck rice plates and French fries! I once joined Weight Watchers, but attended six Italian cooking lessons instead. It was a yummy, benign self-indulgence. But I wouldn't recommend it. If I've learned anything through my son's death, it's the importance of one's health and wellness. These are precious gifts."

What can employers do to help employees struggling with grief and loss? Sunoo recommends they bring in employee assistance counselors and grief management specialists, maintain regular communication with bereaved employees, maintain a flexible work schedule, identify local bereavement resources, assess realistic work productivity expectations, and consider a leave policy or vacation banks (where other employees can donate some of their vacation time).

As for co-workers, the best thing they can do is listen and ask if they can help. "It's better to make a faux pas than to ignore the bereaved," Sunoo says. "Regardless of what you say or do, if you mean well, it'll be taken that way. If you don't know what to say, just say that. 'I don't know what to say, but I can listen. I'm here for you.'

"Become aware of the cultural diversity issues," she adds. "Some cultures don't like to mention the name of the deceased. In others, many people like to hear the names of the departed and keep pictures at their desk." Those cultural differences became very apparent on a recent trip to Australia, where Brenda and Jan Sunoo gave grief workshops at the Asia Pacific Mediation Forum in Adelaide.

"While there, I met several Aboriginals who educated me about the 'Stolen Generation,'" Sunoo says. "These were the children who were forcibly taken from their families by the white settlers and placed in orphanages, missions and foster homes in order to assimilate them. The emotional, psychological, cultural and economic impact of this has been devastating. When Aboriginals talk about grief and loss, it's not just about the death of a loved one. They're talking about their separation from their 'heart country'(where they were born)--their cultural identity, language, family--everything. And yet, one Aboriginal woman and I talked about the importance of humor in healing. She taught me that humor is like 'water logic,' not 'rock logic.' It emerges like water through the parched land in the Outback and then softens the terrain. That's so true about the value of humor in cracking the cement of grief. We share those analogies and cried."

On Jan. 8, the Sunoos will be in New York City holding a grief workshop for federal employees who are still coping with the aftermath of the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks. Many of them are still in shock. She says, "It's one thing to bring in crisis intervention specialists right after a tragedy and it's another to deal with the long-term impact and face of grief at work: lower productivity, depression, anxiety, malaise, absenteeism, substance abuse, emotional instability. Today's circumstances are so uncertain, how do you recognize and cope with the increased anxiety plaguing our nation? It's the day-to-day face of grief that gets buried. That's the emotional volcano we're sitting on."

The world is a difference place after Sept. 11. We're at war, we're in the middle of an economic recession, and the cost of living with terror has taken its emotional toll. We may act the same, but we feel differently. As we struggle to recover our economic balance, it's important to rebuild spiritually and emotionally too. One of the best ways to do that is to acknowledge feelings of grief and loss.

"It's a validation of how you feel," Sunoo says. "The sooner you can do that, the easier it is to release it and begin to heal." Part of that healing includes making new plans, even if they're small ones. To those who feel fatalistic about planting gardens--whether they're earthly ones or metaphoric ones--Sunoo says, start ordering those bulbs. "When you're grieving, you need to feel some control over your life, especially when you feel your world is in inner and outer chaos. Planting a garden is do-able. Taking a bubble bath and listening to music relieves stress. Recovery occurs invisibly...day by day, hour by hour. Even when you're sleeping and daydreaming. Before you know it, you're stronger and ready to engage life again with more risks.

"As we begin the new year, I love to make New Year's resolutions. We've always done that with our boys. Some people tease me because I'm so goal-oriented. But one of my girlfriends put a positive spin on it. She said that goal-making is hopeful, optimistic. I think that's true. When you set goals or resolutions for yourself, you're looking forward. You're banking on being here. On living. Just make them realistic, so at the beginning of next year, you can pat yourself on the back for reaching them. Since Tommy died, my number one resolution has always been something related to wellness. Life is so fragile. I don't want to take my health for granted. This year, one of my wellness goals is to continue swimming. I like making waves."

So Sunoo makes waves, and often while she's swimming, and at many other times of the day--she thinks of the 16-year-old son who died so suddenly at school. In fact, she's written a memoir about grief and renewal. But after his death and the death of her parents, she's become emotionally stronger and more willing to take risks again. "It's not that I haven't learned to live with grief. I have. But his physical presence has been replaced by his omniscient absence, if that makes any sense. Of course, I feel his spiritual presence all the time, but there's nothing like a feisty argument with a teen-ager to keep you in touch with life. I miss that."