Alki Fritz, Dec. 25, 2001 – Nov. 17, 2014.
His true soul name was Heartsong, but he thought it too froo-froo for his daily name, especially when his favorite puppy thing was to tuck his head, somersault on top of gull poop, and wiggle it in. So I chose a daily name, and it didn’t stick, but he insisted I choose for him.
Hmm, okay, what was the thing I most loved? Of course, Alki Beach, our neighborhood in Seattle. That’s how my sweet boy became Alki. It was the first of many things I learned about love from the king of doggie soccer and chin rubs who loved his family, kids, everyone (except bad guys with guns on TV).
I share this because part of my chosen work as an intuitive is to give witness to love in all its forms, from birth to the dying process and beyond. I tried all year to save my boy, and in the end all I could do was hold him in my arms as his beautiful heart failed. Our thanks to all who offered us comfort, support, much-needed help, and friendship during this dark, painful year—you confirmed, again, that love is in the details. Right now, as you read this, please stop to celebrate those you have loved and lost, and hug those still here.
Our time together is short, but love is eternal. My little Heartsong could tell you that. As Alki rests now in my dad’s arms at his Way Station for Dead Things on the Other Side, I smile as he is once again strong, healthy, and running free. Grief runs deep, as it should: it means you loved and were loved, no matter what. Peace. With thanks, Robyn and Grace the Cat.
© 2015 Robyn M Fritz
