My precious, beautiful boy. I have to let go. I can't believe that the dread Cancer came and took you away. Swift as a viper. Rivers of tears follow after you. Am I being selfish? I don't know. I just know that's the way I feel. No more corkscrews of joy when I come home. No more impossibly small circles at high speed around the living room, tearing up the rug. No more huge, lustrous eyes gazing into mine with an eternal promise of love. You were so young. Eight years old. Born 5 May, 2007, you left us August 19, 2015, only two weeks after we lost our 14 year old, Dulcinea. Yes, this is a house of sadness, emptied out of two distinctly different, but immense personalities. It seems so quiet and still now. Even the roses have drawn a veil of respect over their usual brilliance.

Remembered always will be your deep love for children (as well as your friends: Rogers, my husband; Lupio, our Handyman; Lourdes, our Girl Friday; Tiffany, my daughter; our best friend, Dra. Justina; and your Foster, Professional Photographer, John Hudson). When Sara was here, Justina’s daughter, or my Grandson, Ryland, you weren’t my boy any more. You gave yourself to them totally. How bereft I felt when Ryland, 11, visited and you had "sleepovers" every night in the guest house. You melted, all 90 pounds of you, into the middle of the great bed, on top of the heirloom duvet with Ryland and his mother squeezed on each side.

And I can’t help but wonder if your favourite thing wasn’t your 5:00 AM walks with Lupio, when he followed you everywhere and allowed you to cavort at the end of the leash like a “wild child.” How strange it was to see someone of your size and muscular build moving with such agility and strength.

Goodbye, gladiator of my heart, goodbye. Cross The Rainbow Bridge enveloped in my love. I will see you again.

Two souls that met.

Johanna Hitt Tomenson