Forty-two pounds of loving-kindness…

I wrote “My dear friend…” on October 10, 2020.

At the time, I suspected you were sick with cancer… I have lived with the knowledge that you would eventually leave us, but with every passing day, the sadness faded away. I promised myself that I would enjoy and be grateful for every moment and every day filled with your loving presence.

Six hundred and ten days later, on June 12, 2022, I am afraid that I am writing the last page of our story.

You came into our lives in June 2013. You filled our lives with love. Everyone loved you, and you loved everyone unconditionally. I don’t think you had a gram of meanness in your skinny forty-two pounds.

You rapidly became our son’s best friend. You helped him grow into the beautiful, kind, caring, and generous teenager we love.

Even if you were 50 times bigger than this chick, you could not hurt it. You made us laugh because you were afraid of it. 

Our life together was simple. You made being happy so easy.

Every morning, we would wake up to your beautiful wiggling tail. I would feed you then I would prepare my coffee.

Every day, we would enjoy our walk in the Gatineau Park, near our home.

Every evening, we would get together to cuddle and read with Liam before going to sleep.

You provided a calming and loving presence in our lives. You added sweetness to our existence.

Tomorrow, I don’t know how I will let you go.

What would I give to be able to hold you in my arms forever?

My heart hurts as I welcome the tears and the sadness.

Ani,  I am grateful for every moment of loving-kindness we shared.

We will never forget you.

In our hearts, we will carry your love forever.

Goodbye, beautiful angel. 

I love you. 

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June 13, 2022

In a plane waiting on the tarmac of San Francisco airport, I am coming home to hold my son through the most significant grief of his life. It is a great sadness for all of us, and I hope, if possible, that it will be a gentle experience for Liam.

Tonight, I would like my son to go through this in my arms, surrounded by the love and gratitude I hold in my heart.

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June 16, 2022

I took a few days to grieve, to cry, to process the sadness.

We let Ani become an angel on June 14, 2022 at 19h04. It was a difficult and sad moment with a lot of tears but it was also filled with love.

My greatest achievement of 2022 is that I was able to accompany my son through the first real grief of his life and help him understand that when you let go of someone you have loved for most of your life, it is an act that is filled with more love and gratitude than sadness.

We agree that the sum of all the love and joy shared together is infinitely greater than the pain of the ultimate separation, so we should never be afraid to love.

Since she left our lives, we had recurring periods of sadness that emerged in the little moments that reminded us of our lives with Ani; it reminded us of her absence.

I felt in myself two opposite tendencies at work. A part of me wanted to just minimize the emotions and go on with my life and my work. Another part of me felt overwhelmed by the sadness. I found a space of balance in my heart, where emotions can be felt, where sadness can be welcomed and even shared with the people I love, without being overwhelming. I feel that Liam has found his own similar space, and he manages it well. It is beautiful to see him grow like this.

Today I really feel a recognition that rises from the bottom of my soul: sadness makes us human.

I’ll repeat it because it is so important, we should never be afraid to love.

Thank you.