Last night, our family dog, Rujan, died. Next Friday he’d turn 5 months.

But, this is not the story about how he died, nor how shattered to pieces I am. It’s about death and work.

Up until a year ago, not only would I have worked myself to death but I would work through death. Work was my way of coping (isn’t it obvious?). My way of surviving. My way of hiding.

But there was something else.

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