After my mother died, I started volunteering at a hospice because I could not bear going home to an empty house. That was where I met Nathan, a dying man with no visitors, no emergency contact, and one final request that should have made me walk away.
Two years after my mother died, I started volunteering at a small hospice outside town.
I told people I wanted to help.
The truth was that I needed somewhere grief could exist without anyone asking when I planned to move on.
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