The Story of Rose

There’s a moment in life that forever splits your world into “before” and “after.” For me, that moment came when I was just 17 years old. My dad—my anchor, my safe place, the man whose laughter could make everything feel okay—passed away suddenly. He was only 41. I was only 17. The day he died, my world went silent. Not the kind of silence that’s peaceful, but the kind that echoes in every corner of your heart. I felt like I had been unplugged from life itself. Everything I thought I knew about safety, love, and life had vanished overnight. People around me assumed I’d “get over it.” Family said time heals all wounds. But grief isn’t neat. It doesn’t follow schedules. And at that age, I didn’t have the tools to navigate the storm I suddenly found myself in. I went looking for something—anything—to fill the empty space left by my dad’s absence. I looked for love in all the wrong places. I tolerated relationships that chipped away at my confidence. I accepted attention from people who...