The Promise I Made Before He Died

And Why I'm Still Keeping It

My book, The Luck We Carry: Love, Loss, and the Stories that Shape Us, 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. I got to make sure he would die knowing I’ve never loved anyone as much as I loved him, and that every day I woke up with him in my life was a fun adventure I’d never forget.

Likewise, he told me how much he loved me and how devastated he was that he was being “pulled away” from me. It was just as devastating to hear in his once buoyant voice that grew smaller every day. He told me how proud he was that I was blogging and writing. So much so, in fact, in the weeks before he died, he made me promise one thing: to never stop writing.

This book is me keeping that promise. Page by page. Essay by essay. It tells our story—love, loss, laughter, and the life that had to be rebuilt after everything changed. Writing it has been a long road, but it’s also been a gift. One I’m finally ready to share.

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