Part 1: The Morning My Dog Wouldn’t Stop Scratching at the Door

named her Sunny.

I didn’t ask why. I didn’t need to.

Some nights, the sadness returned sharply. There were moments when the quiet still hurt, when laughter in a grocery store aisle caught me off guard, when a child’s yellow sweater in public made my chest tighten.

But now, when those moments came, I had somewhere to put them.

I sat on the floor with Sunny continue reading …