dear finn, i'll always remember the day we met

a letter about our 101 dalmatians destiny encounter

dear finn,

i love how the way we met mirrored the beginning of 101 dalmatians, and that scene where two strangers are pulled together when their dogs tangle leashes in the park. that’s how it felt the evening you and i met.

i thought of that moment again today as i sat under our family tree, feeling into your presence in the wind, while a small plane, like the ones you used to fly, hummed above and the leaves whispered around me.

you found this gem of a property, acres of grassland meadows just outside boulder. now, as i sit beneath the hundred-year-old cottonwood in our backyard, planted directly under the flight path to the local airport, i feel grateful each time the planes still soar overhead.

as if they are banner planes, like the ones that fly over crowded beaches in the summer, only these carry a message for me: i love you always and forever, venus. that is how it feels when i see them and hear the purr of their engines. sophia, our youngest, feels you in the planes too, and often points them out when an especially low one soars right above us.

as i’ve shared in other posts, signs are not so much about what they are, but when and why they arrive—the timing, the reason they stir us, the way they bring a departed loved one close.

that is how i know you get our attention when you are no longer here to speak in physical form.

you were a pilot during a time of your life before we met, where you carried with you such an ache from all of your failed relationships and a longing for a family you had not yet been given.

until me. until us.

until that fated day at the dog park, when our paths finally crossed in this lifetime for the first time.

it was one of those big sky, colorado evenings. i remember standing still, looking up as the clouds burned red and gold, breathing deeply, grateful to be alive, grateful to be in a body that was growing stronger and learning to be whole again.

the terror that had once lived in my gut had begun to loosen.

after my ex attacked me, i had been so jumpy and haunted, living in friends’ spare bedrooms and later the safe house apartment with my (our) two young girls. i had spent three years healing and learning so much along the way.

but by this evening in the dog park, we were beginning to settle. i had a two bedroom affordable housing apartment in north boulder, a job as a waldorf teacher, and my beloved german shepherd, ada, who had stayed with my mom through the upheaval, was finally home with us.

before heading to the dog park that evening, i remember i had gone to hot yoga, showered, and picked up my girls from aftercare.

you had also chosen to go to the dog park that day, and while walking in with motor toward the entrance, you saw the girls climbing over the seats of my little subaru, while i was off searching for dog bags.

you had wondered briefly about the whereabouts of their mother as you walked by. and later you saw me standing across the park, looking up at the sky.

it became one of our favorite stories to tell. you loved recounting how you had watched me from afar, standing with one hand on my hip the way i always did, staring up as the sunset colors spread across the horizon.

for some reason i now always remember it the way you did, as if i have stepped into your memory: seeing myself from afar, in my black down vest, my jeans, my face lifted to the clouds.

it begs a question, do i now carry your memory of that moment with me because we are soulmates and you are showing it to me from your perspective?

that evening, you had begun tossing the ball for your black lab, motor, ever so strategically in our direction, after noticing me standing there. eventually my shepherd, ada, gave chase to motor, and i asked if you minded her herding your dog.

that was how the first thread was woven.

and just like that, a conversation opened, as if it had been waiting for us.

that was when i heard your voice, and i felt a low steady safety that vibrated out from the timbre of your vocal chords.

they say the soul communicates its frequency through the eyes and the voice.

but it was definitely more than frequency we both felt. it was electric.

later that week, while on recess duty, i had told a friend and colleague how my ovaries had also jumped in recognition.

maybe tobin and sophia were also there that day in spirit, their unborn souls shouting approval.

either way, it was instant recognition, instant chemistry, everything people mean by love at first sight.

only for me it was not sight, it was sound and vibration. because you wore a baseball cap, sunglasses, and a heavy coat, i could not really see your face, but my whole body and soul answered to your frequency.

the girls felt it too. they danced in circles around us, caught up in that childlike joy that rises when little bodies sense a vibration they cannot yet name.

i remember flashing you my left hand—no ring there—and mentioning that my ex had just sent the girls the toys they were busy playing with while we chatted.

soon they started a new game and began picking blades of grass, offering them to you for his “salad,” and you laughed, pretending to eat.

what’s so precious about you, finn, is how you kept that grass all these years later. we found the grass tucked away, while we were cleaning out your office after you died, a tender relic from the day it all began.

i used to tease you, as you loved to tuck away all kinds of small treasures and keepsakes, but after you died i was so glad you were like that.

what i know for sure is that while you kept little tokens for us to hold onto and look back on now, the real treasure has always been the golden thread that continues to weave us all together, which started that fated evening at the dog park.

it was a 101 dalmatians kind of meeting for sure, but also something much more profound. the very echo of a more ancient promise, two souls recognizing each other again in this lifetime, under a wide colorado sky.

---

Ada and Motor at the dog park where we met

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i am a writer, speaker, and musician devoted to healing and embodiment. i share essays, poetry, and original music through venus consciousness. i’d love to walk this path with you. 💞