I write about grief. Sometimes, people will stop by to say something like, “DEPRESSING! NO THANK YOU!” which is fine because this isn’t a sales pitch or anything. It’s okay if what I’m doing isn’t everyone’s thing.

I’m also fairly certain grief is never anyone’s “thing,” until suddenly, it is.

Although I write about grief, I don’t always write about death. I also write about the kind of grief that doesn’t come with funerals or flowers. And I write about life and family and living with things people “can’t imagine.”

When I write about grief, I don’t do it with a magnifying glass under the sun. I don’t wish to burn you or send you fleeing. I wish to invite you in, to give you hope, to say that whatever you’re carrying, however not okay it all is, you matter. You belong. You can still make a life here.

So yes, I write about grief, but as someone here recently pointed out, much of the time, what I’m really writing about is love.