Hey Reader,

I have some sad news to share.

Our French bulldog, Hercules, passed away recently. He had a seizure on his morning walk, and within a couple of hours, he was gone. He would have turned fourteen this month.

I’ve been struggling to focus since, and the only thing I seem to have energy for is the grief. I talk a lot about how the stories we tell ourselves shape how we show up, and I realized I’d been holding onto the idea that I didn’t love him enough. What I’m landing on is this: Hercules wasn’t my best friend, but he was one of my best teachers. We had our “only child” battles for attention, but I’d like to think we were there for each other in the ways that mattered.

The most authentic thing I can do right now is share our journey, including the part where loving him took me time. I wrote down how I’m remembering him because part of me worries that I'll forget, so I wanted to capture the years we shared before my memory fades. If you’d like to remember him with me, you can find my story on the blog.

This time of year, with its shorter days and colder temperatures, usually pulls me into a hibernation state, where I spend time with the bigger questions about life and where I’m headed. Losing Hercules has made these questions louder.

I don’t have this figured out, but I know one thing: I want to learn not to hide my grief and force a smile to be good at what I do. I'll be moving deeper this season, and as I share what I’m finding, I hope it helps you navigate your own transitions as I navigate mine.

With love,

Betty