It was midafternoon, and I was already curled up on the couch in the living room with no plans to move. The day before, I’d had to put down my beloved dog, Ben. I’d spent the rest of the day in a haze, agonizing over my decision. Ben had been 12 years old, with rapidly declining health, and his veterinarian had assured me I’d made the humane choice. But was it? Had I really done the right thing?
On the other side of the room, my husband, Jon, was helping our six-year-old son, Gus, with his homework.
“Which of these worksheets should we have him do first?” he asked me.
“I don’t know. Just pick one,” I said, distracted.
Our older sons, Ted and Lou, played together, chatting happily. My…
