There are no words to describe the loss of a son. Many may be used, but neither «void», «emptiness», «lacking», or all other synonyms may suffice to describe the noumenal, the things that we cannot speak.

We grapple with loss because it is only a posteriori that we learn how much we’ve lost, and it’s only then that we want it back. And, as we all know, it will never be enough time. Never enough “love you’s,” never enough kisses, never enough laughs and treats. 

Since losing Soap, things have changed drastically. Some have discovered how meaningless their efforts were, some have found a new kind of hidden strength, some have remained ever so lonelier – yet, we all still remember you, my boy, and we still see your shadow move, your feet clatter through the room, we still arrive home expecting your sweet little face looking up for us.

For some reason, I did not make public that we had lost you at the time. I think there still is some sort of shame about it; like we were supposed to make you immortal, make you last forever, yet we knew that couldn’t be done. I think the shame and guilt of feeling we caused your death has reduced, that I feel a bit more ready to say to the world that we have lost the only ray of sunshine left.
I know most people reading this won’t find the presence of Soap and now the lack thereof as impactful as the people we did tell when it had just happened. I know making it public does not change the fact that the universe does not care.

I want to believe there may be some sort of retribution and immortality through this website. That one day it will become the beacon of his life and our hopes to improve other rabbits’ lives. This is what I originally set to do, and what I hoped for it to become once you passed. I did not intend for you to pass so early, though. I still grieve you.
I wanted you, Soap, to become the superstar we knew we had in our household. That charismatic beautiful, smart, strong boy that had not lived a single day of fear, pain, hunger up until the day of your passing. I wanted people to fall in love with you as deeply as we did. Maybe I sinned of sloth, of not uploading enough pictures, of not interacting enough with others to boost your popularity.

Regardless, if any big change cannot be done, smaller change will be. We will bring a new pair home next weekend, and we will attempt to make them as happy as they deserve: eternally. They have known fear and hurt, they have known abandonment and disease, and I’m sure all the greens, cuddles, treats, and pellets that are awaiting for them will never suffice, just like they didn’t with you; I also hope I can turn back to our pictures together, once they pass, and say “we lost them, we are sad, but I can see from these pictures, from their faces, from their lives, that they were happy” just like you were.
The trove of love that is the pictures and videos we zealously guard now will never betray that image. The image of infinite love we have given you, and you gave us back.

Now, then, if there is an afterlife, I hope that you are enjoying the best: the love of Sosig, the acceptance of Freyja, the company that all the other rabbits we had known. An afterlife grandpa to give you peach and pear, an afterlife daddy to give you cuddles properly, and an afterlife mummy to keep you safe and clean.

All the people that have known you love you, Soap, we still do and most of us will forever do.