A year ago, I still thought the worst thing that could happen to my marriage was losing someone we loved.
I was wrong.
When my mother-in-law, Valerie, was diagnosed with terminal cancer, everything in our lives shifted.
I was wrong.
She had always been independent, the kind of woman who carried her own groceries even when someone offered to help.
Watching her body weaken was brutal.
My husband, Zion, worked long hours.
At least, that was what he told me.