What Loss and a Golden Retriever Taught Me About Telling Human Stories

For most of my life, I thought my job was to tell other people’s stories.

And for a long time, it was — until my own life became one.

It didn’t fall apart all at once. It unraveled slowly — caregiving, job loss, betrayal, violence, grief. But somewhere inside that collapse, I found clarity. And I uncovered a skill I never realized I was sharpening all along: how to tell the truth through pain.

Now, that skill helps others — businesses, nonprofits, and individuals — find their voice and shape their own comeback stories. But before I could help them, I had to survive mine.

Caregiving Was My First Training Ground

Mom and me, stopping during our move from the San Francisco Bay Area to Miami.

My mother needed a liver transplant. We had her transported from Detroit to San Francisco, where I was living near one of the best hospitals in the world — UCSF. She got her transplant, but the journey was far from over.

She moved with me to Miami as I took a new job in TV news. Then came open-heart surgery. Then dialysis, three times a week. It was just me managing it all — no family nearby, just me and her in a city that never slowed down.

I was working full-time in news while juggling endless medical appointments, advocating with insurance companies, keeping track of medication, and trying to keep her spirits — and mine — intact.

I didn’t know it at the time, but that was the beginning of my real training. I was learning how to listen. How to adapt. How to find meaning in pain. That’s what storytelling is.

The Collapse

While on leave to care for my mom, my life imploded.

Someone I trusted turned violent. It became domestic. He smashed my windows. Chased me with a hammer. Tore apart everything I’d built — including my sense of safety. My mother was sitting outside by the pool while it happened. My golden retrievers, Graham and Emmy, stood in the doorway.

The very next day, my confidential separation agreement from my newsroom job was leaked to an online TV news blogger. As a journalist we are told to respect domestic violence victims. The blogger didn't. He took my abuser's stolen document and put it up behind a paywall to make money off my horror. My reputation — the one I’d spent my entire career building — became public fodder.

Then I lost Emmy, my other golden. And shortly after that, I had to sell my South Florida dream house where my mom had recovered after transplant — the place I thought I’d retire in.

Graham stayed with me through it all. Quiet, loyal, unshaken. He was my anchor to a life that no longer existed.

A New Chapter — on the Road, and Inside Myself

With no job, no home, and no plan, I hit the road with Graham.

We drove across the South for six months, searching for peace, or purpose, or maybe just a place to breathe. Along the way, I listened. To strangers at gas stations. To single moms in laundromats. To business owners in roadside diners.

And I realized something: most people don’t know how to tell their story — especially when it’s tangled in trauma, fear, or reinvention.

But I do. Because I lived it.

Enjoying a day on the lake while spending a few weeks in Northwest Arkansas.

The Turn: From TV News Manager to Personal Storyteller

I’ve produced shows that hit big ratings. I launched new brands and helped rebuild newsroom identities. But the real magic never came from scripts or formats. It came from human stories — the ones that made people feel seen.

Now, I do that work one-on-one. I help people — small business owners, nonprofit leaders, subject-matter experts — find their message and shape it into something that connects.

Because here’s the truth: you can’t ChatGPT your way to connection. You can’t fake lived experience. People can tell the difference. And when you’ve been through something, your story has weight. Power. Credibility.

Here’s What I Learned — And How It Helps You

Graham taught me to stay grounded.

Watching my life fall apart taught me to focus. Caregiving taught me compassion. News taught me to write fast and clearly. And storytelling — real, lived-in storytelling — taught me how to help others find meaning in what they’ve been through.

Here’s how I do that now:

• Website copy that doesn’t sound like copy

• Blog posts that position you as the expert you already are

• Bios and About pages that tell the truth, not just the résumé

• Content strategy that elevates your voice without losing your soul

Whether you’re rebuilding, rebranding, or just trying to make people care — I help you tell the story that matters most.

You’re Not Alone in Reinvention

If you’ve ever thought:

• “I don’t know how to explain what I do.”

• “I don’t want to sound salesy.”

• “I know my work matters, but I can’t get people to see it.”

I’ve been there. I get it. And I can help.

Not with formulas. Not with fluff. With truth, voice, and purpose.

The Dog Behind the Brand

I named this brand Graham & Gold for a reason.

Graham was the gold — steady, gentle, loyal. He showed up when everything else disappeared. And now, I use his legacy to remind people: your story matters. Your voice matters.

Even in your hardest chapters, there’s a thread worth pulling — a truth that connects.

Let’s find it. Let’s make it work for you.

-Andrew Gillfillan