There are some souls who enter our lives and change us forever. They become so deeply woven into the fabric of our existence that imagining a world without them feels impossible.
For me, that soul was Gerald.
My boy. My best friend. My life partner. My everything.
When I lost Gerald, I honestly felt as though my entire world was coming to an end.
How do you explain the loss of someone who was your constant? Someone who had walked beside you through some of the darkest chapters of your life, never asking for anything other than your love?
Gerald was there when I lost my dad. He was there throughout my sister's cancer journey. He was there through my mom's illness, through the worry, the exhaustion, the tears, and all the moments when life felt unbearably heavy.
And somehow, through it all, he made the world feel a little less frightening.
I am fortunate enough to work from home most days, and Gerald took his role as my colleague extremely seriously.
Every morning, without fail, he would be in my office before me.
I'm not a morning person, and I swear I could hear him saying, "Come on, Mom! You're late for work!"
He would lie beside me from seven in the morning until seven in the evening, keeping me company through meetings, deadlines, difficult conversations and ordinary days.
He was, without question, the best employee I have ever had.
And then there were the lizards.
Oh, how my Gerald loved his lizards!
If there was a lizard somewhere in our garden, Gerald considered it his personal responsibility to find it. He would race through the garden with absolute determination, completely oblivious to anything standing in his way.
Not even my ponds could stop him.
I would often find him standing right in the water, completely absorbed, staring at a lizard as though it were the most important mission of his life.
Those silly, beautiful, ordinary moments.
I would give absolutely anything to have just one more.
And then came the day I had to make the decision that broke me.
The day I had to help my beautiful boy leave this world.
I don't think there are words powerful enough to describe what that does to your heart.
The silence afterwards is deafening.
The empty space beside my desk. The mornings without him waiting for me. The garden without my little lizard hunter.
And beneath the grief was something even more painful.
The questions.
Had I done the right thing?
Had I let him go too soon?
Had I failed the little soul who had spent his entire life loving me so unconditionally?
Those questions were destroying me.
And then Capella Riley came into my life.
I struggle to explain what Capella gave me, because what she offered was so much more than comfort.
Through her extraordinary gift of interspecies telepathic animal communication, Capella shared messages that she understood to be from my Gerald.
Messages that reached parts of my broken heart I thought might never heal.
She told me that Gerald was right beside me. That he had never truly left me. That the love we shared had not ended simply because I could no longer hold him in my arms.
But there was one message that changed something inside me forever.
Gerald told Capella that he had asked me to help him cross over. And he thanked me for listening.
Even writing those words brings tears to my eyes.
Because the decision I had been torturing myself over, the decision I thought might haunt me for the rest of my life, was met with love and gratitude in the message Capella shared.
Not blame.
Not regret.
Love.
I cannot explain what that moment meant to me.
And then something happened that I will carry in my heart forever.
Now, I need to tell you something about myself.
I am absolutely, ridiculously terrified of Christmas beetles.
I mean genuinely terrified.
I scream. I run. I become a small child who has completely lost all ability to behave like a rational adult.
And Gerald knew this.
Please don't judge me, but my little hero used to catch Christmas beetles and eat them for me!
He was my personal beetle protection service.
The night after my session with Capella, I was sitting outside, trying to process everything she had shared with me.
I was thinking about Gerald, missing him so desperately, and quietly asking him for a sign.
Something. Anything.
Just something to let me know he was still close.
And then it happened.
The very first Christmas beetle of the season landed directly on my knee.
My knee!
Of all the places in the world.
And do you know what I did?
I didn't scream.
I didn't run.
I laughed.
For the first time, something that had always terrified me filled me with the most extraordinary sense of joy.
I sat there laughing, thinking about my beautiful Gerald and his lifelong mission to protect his ridiculous mother from Christmas beetles.
And I allowed that little beetle to sit on my knee until it was ready to fly away.
The following evening, I was sitting in exactly the same spot.
Looking up at the moon.
Talking to Gerald.
Thanking him for loving me. Thanking him for choosing me. Thanking him for being my strength when I had none left of my own.
And would you believe it?
Another Christmas beetle landed on my knee.
Again!
I burst out laughing.
Through my tears, I said, "Thank you, my Gerald. I see your sign!"
But this time, I did something I had never imagined myself capable of doing.
I held out my hand.
And I let that Christmas beetle walk onto it.
It sat there, perfectly still.
Me. The woman who would previously have run screaming across the garden at the mere sight of one.
I sat peacefully with a Christmas beetle resting on my hand.
Laughing.
Crying.
Feeling so much love.
I had asked for a sign, and goodness gracious, did I feel as though I had received one!
Some people may call it coincidence.
But for me, those two little visitors became something deeply meaningful. A moment of connection, a reminder of Gerald's mischievous personality, and a beautiful memory I will treasure for the rest of my life.
And I know Gerald would have found the whole thing absolutely hilarious.
That is what Capella gave me.
Not the promise that grief would disappear.
Not the illusion that losing Gerald would somehow stop hurting.
But something I had almost forgotten was possible.
Hope.
Peace.
And the ability to smile through tears again.
Am I still grieving?
Every single day.
Do I still reach for him, look for him, and ache for the familiar presence of my little boy?
Of course I do.
I suspect I always will.
Because grief is the price we pay for loving someone so completely, and I would never trade a single moment of my life with Gerald to escape the pain of losing him.
But Capella helped me experience my grief differently.
She gave me the reassurance I had so desperately needed, and she did it with a level of compassion that is difficult to put into words.
There was no judgement. No rushing me through my sadness. No expectation that I should be stronger or that I should somehow be ready to let go.
Just kindness.
Gentleness.
Patience.
And the most extraordinary respect for the love between a human being and an animal.
Capella understands that our animals are not just pets.
They are our family.
Our companions.
Our safe places.
Sometimes, they are the very reason we find the strength to face another day.
And when they leave us, the grief is real, profound and deserving of every ounce of compassion we would offer someone mourning a human loved one.
Capella, I don't think I will ever find the words to thank you enough.
Thank you for treating my grief with such tenderness.
Thank you for honouring Gerald's life and the extraordinary love we shared.
Thank you for helping me find some peace with the most painful decision I have ever made.
Thank you for the messages you shared, for the compassion you showed, and for helping me open my heart to the possibility that love can continue to be felt in ways we may never fully understand.
Your gift, your connection with the animal kingdom, and your love for both animals and the humans who cherish them are precious beyond measure.
More people need to know about you.
More grieving hearts deserve to experience your kindness.
And more people need to understand that the bond we share with our animals is something sacred.
I will carry what you gave me for the rest of my life.
And to my Gerald...
My beautiful boy.
My best employee.
My fearless lizard hunter.
My Christmas beetle protector.
My best friend.
Thank you for every single moment.
Thank you for getting me through the days when I didn't think I could carry on.
Thank you for loving me in the purest, most unconditional way I have ever known.
I miss you more than words could ever explain.
But now, when a Christmas beetle comes to visit, I won't run away.
I'll smile.
I'll laugh.
And I'll think of you.
Because some love stories don't end with goodbye. They simply find another way to live in our hearts.
With all my love and gratitude,
Michelle