I spent three years avoiding my mother's bedroom door.
Three years helping other people process their worst losses while I couldn't even touch the handle to the room where she used to read mystery novels and keep her jewelry box and water the plants on the windowsill. Because opening that door meant accepting she was really gone. And I wasn't ready for that level of real.
I'm a grief counselor, for God's sake. I should know how to handle death. I should understand that love doesn't end when someone's heart stops beating. But apparently, professional training doesn't mean much when it's your own mother lying in that hospital bed, and you're too much of a coward to hold her hand while she dies.
Then Gabriel walked into my support group.
Tall, quiet, with these incredible gray eyes that seemed to understand loss in ways that went deeper than any textbook. He talked about absence becoming presence like he'd witnessed it firsthand a thousand times. He made everyone feel less alone just by existing in the same room.
What I didn't know was that Gabriel had been there. In that hospital room. Three years ago. Holding my mother's hand while I hid in the bathroom, helping her cross over to whatever comes next.
Because Gabriel isn't just another grieving person trying to make sense of loss.
Gabriel is a reaper. Was a reaper. Until he met me and everything he thought he knew about death and duty and the rules of the universe got completely turned upside down.
Now he's choosing between the immortal purpose he's had for centuries and the very mortal, very human love that's made him understand what it means to actually live. And I'm trying to figure out how to love someone whose job it was to help people die, while learning that maybe just maybe death isn't the enemy of love I always thought it was.
This is the story of how I learned to open doors I was afraid to face. How I discovered that grief isn't the opposite of love it's love with nowhere to go. How I fell for the most impossible man in the most impossible circumstances and somehow that made everything possible.
It's about choosing love over fear, even when love means accepting the unacceptable. About finding purpose in your worst pain. About understanding that sometimes the people who teach us how to live are the ones who understand death most intimately.
And it's about learning that love really is bigger than death. Always.
For readers who love emotional, transformative romance with supernatural elements and aren't afraid to ugly-cry in public places.
Content note: Deals with themes of grief, loss, death, and healing. Contains emotional intensity that may resonate deeply with anyone who has experienced loss.
Genre: Inspirational
Three years helping other people process their worst losses while I couldn't even touch the handle to the room where she used to read mystery novels and keep her jewelry box and water the plants on the windowsill. Because opening that door meant accepting she was really gone. And I wasn't ready for that level of real.
I'm a grief counselor, for God's sake. I should know how to handle death. I should understand that love doesn't end when someone's heart stops beating. But apparently, professional training doesn't mean much when it's your own mother lying in that hospital bed, and you're too much of a coward to hold her hand while she dies.
Then Gabriel walked into my support group.
Tall, quiet, with these incredible gray eyes that seemed to understand loss in ways that went deeper than any textbook. He talked about absence becoming presence like he'd witnessed it firsthand a thousand times. He made everyone feel less alone just by existing in the same room.
What I didn't know was that Gabriel had been there. In that hospital room. Three years ago. Holding my mother's hand while I hid in the bathroom, helping her cross over to whatever comes next.
Because Gabriel isn't just another grieving person trying to make sense of loss.
Gabriel is a reaper. Was a reaper. Until he met me and everything he thought he knew about death and duty and the rules of the universe got completely turned upside down.
Now he's choosing between the immortal purpose he's had for centuries and the very mortal, very human love that's made him understand what it means to actually live. And I'm trying to figure out how to love someone whose job it was to help people die, while learning that maybe just maybe death isn't the enemy of love I always thought it was.
This is the story of how I learned to open doors I was afraid to face. How I discovered that grief isn't the opposite of love it's love with nowhere to go. How I fell for the most impossible man in the most impossible circumstances and somehow that made everything possible.
It's about choosing love over fear, even when love means accepting the unacceptable. About finding purpose in your worst pain. About understanding that sometimes the people who teach us how to live are the ones who understand death most intimately.
And it's about learning that love really is bigger than death. Always.
For readers who love emotional, transformative romance with supernatural elements and aren't afraid to ugly-cry in public places.
Content note: Deals with themes of grief, loss, death, and healing. Contains emotional intensity that may resonate deeply with anyone who has experienced loss.
Genre: Inspirational
Used availability for Catalina Voss's Learning to Let Go