Tomorrow is February 5th, one decade since my late wife, Cynthia, passed. What I’ve never told anyone is that today, February 4th, is the day I remember the most. After being sick for a week with the flu, we went to the hospital for a second time. I won’t go into details but grief digs her nails in on days like today. This year is no different. 

Cynthia took this last photo of herself as she lay in bed with her Pomeranian, Coco.

Yesterday, Coco laid with Kennedy and me for the last time…two days shy of 10 years. At 16.5 years old, Coco’s presence was bigger than his 3.5 pound fluffy body would suggest. Coco, like Cynthia, could own a room. 

I read somewhere that progress is not linear. It’s more like a loop attempting to spin upward. Each loop passes by a few new things and a few familiar spots - revisiting ideas and memories. 

Grief too spins upward in days and years - some make progress, some are flat, and others may even digress. But we keep spinning. We keep looking up. We’re moving. 

Coco kept me moving. After a brief period living with my parents, Kennedy and I flew to Memphis to bury my Jack Russel, Ema. I think Kennedy said it first, “Coco should fly home with us.” And, he did. Kennedy took over from there - getting a travel bag, coordinating vet sign-off with my sister Becky, and dealing with the airline.

Arriving in San Francisco he was exposed to a lot of new things including Kennedy’s seventy pound shepherd, the late Bear.

As the years passed, Kennedy taught Coco every trick in the book. Yes, old dogs can learn new tricks.  K also taught me how to talk to Coco again. It was like I had to find a way to reintroduce myself and apologize for something out of my control.

A natural empath - Coco understood. He was always aware of everyone’s emotional state. Like Cynthia, Coco’s eyes always found you. By the time he was in your lap, nothing else really mattered.

As Coco passed yesterday, I thanked him. I thanked him for keeping me moving. I hope to see you again some day, buddy.

You’re with Cynthia now. Brush your hair if you want, enjoy the laps, keep your eyes on the camera, and keep moving. We’ll pass by you again sometime soon.

love,

L & K Bae