My upcoming book exists because of a promise. Ken was full of kindness, grace, and humor. So much so that even our hospice experience together held moments of joy. Not because it was easy. It wasn’t. We had hard conversations. Honest ones. The kind you’re grateful for later. I have no regrets. I got to tell him everything I was feeling. Before he died, he made me promise one thing: to never stop writing. This upcoming book is me keeping that promise. Page by page. Essay by es

Grief and loss don’t define me. They inform me. For a long time, I thought grief had rewritten my entire identity. After Ken died, everything felt marked by before and after. I didn’t recognize the guy in the mirror. I didn’t recognize the world he lived in either. It felt like grief had stamped my passport and decided where I was allowed to go next. But with time, I realized something important. Grief didn’t take over my story. It reshaped it. It sharpened what mattered. It