My precious Zoey. Zoey was my last living connection to the life Josh, my late husband, and I shared. I rescued her three months before Josh came into my life. She was there through our years together, a silent witness to our love, our ordinary days and the life we built. When Josh died, Zoey was there, too. I remember sitting on the closet floor, surrounded by his clothes, trying to hold on to anything that still carried his scent. In those moments when the grief felt unbear

Losing a friend can leave an ache that words can’t fully explain. It’s a quiet, persistent pain that shows up in unexpected moments. You might reach for your phone to send a message, only to realize they’re not there. A memory may surface out of nowhere, or something good happens, and you feel the absence of your friend. Sometimes, the loss comes from death. Other times, it stems from the end of a friendship with someone who is still alive. Both types of loss carry grief, and

I remember asking this question when my husband died. Most people responded by saying that “I will always bear this pain. The new life I am now living will adapt to the heart-wrenching pain. It will lessen in time, but it will never go away.” Not very comforting. So listening to friends, family and society, I endured the pain and at times made unhealthy choices to numb my discomfort, to ease my heartache. My grief was at times crippling and debilitating. I pushed through