TODAY I WANT TO BE STRONG!
Dear friends and subscribers,
I’ve been away for over a month, for reasons I’ll share with you later. But before I begin to open this “window,” I’d like to share a certainty with you: the older I get, the more I understand that life might actually be something quite simple. Just like that!
For the past couple of months, I’ve been dodging arrows shot recklessly—but sometimes one hits us. This time, someone casually asked me:
“Why are you going to write a book or something online if most emails won’t even be opened, and books won’t be read either? What gets likes are dopamine-boosting videos or clips of people in sweatpants showing off their butts while doing little dances.”
See what I mean? As a writer, I can tell you that sometimes we don’t see it coming, and the hit lands like we’re the target. And in those moments, I ask myself: Why do I keep complaining about the clown, when the real issue is why I keep going to the circus?
There are times in life when we manage to be giants and handle everything—but unfortunately, there are other times when we can’t. And that’s okay! Really. Sometimes we’re strong enough to survive, and sometimes we’re not—because we’re HUMAN. And just because your project is taking time doesn’t mean you’re not making progress.
You have to align yourself with ideas that resonate with your rhythm in life in order to move forward. If you don’t, everything—and I mean everything—will be much harder. And sadly, you might start believing that you’re not capable of doing it. The ironic and “funny” part is that we already know what we need to do. Art has left countless clues for us throughout history—in manuscripts, in cinema, in literature, and in music.
How could we forget the iconic words of Mexican painter Frida Kahlo: “Where you can’t love, don’t linger”; or the epic line spoken by Celie in Alice Walker’s novel The Color Purple, when she declares her freedom to her husband: “I’m poor, I’m Black, I may even be ugly, and I can’t cook... but here I am”; and that, even in the face of so much adversity, we don’t let them steal the light from our faces, so we can gather strength and move forward—just like Eunice Paiva (played by Fernanda Torres) said to her children in the Brazilian film I’m Still Here, after her husband “disappeared” during Brazil’s military dictatorship: “Let’s smile. Smile!”
But ah... there are always the “buts”, marking the exceptions to every “rule,” and reinventing moments where there’s truly no other choice but to go through the mourning of some loss.
TODAY I DON’T WANT TO BE STRONG!
It was my turn. Last month, on March 4th to be exact, my furry four-legged son, Raji, closed his eyes for the last time—just weeks before what would have been his 16th birthday. My Raji, my Rajito, Meu Rajinho, my son, my little old man, my lifelong companion who stood by me through so many moments of joy and sorrow… a noble, kind soul… the most beautiful part of my heart… needed to rest.
There are no words to truly capture the pain of losing a child. Yes—he was my child, and I honestly couldn’t care less what others think about that. The pain feels like your heart’s been shattered by a single, devastating blow. It hurts. It hurts deeply. And in this kind of grief, all pet parents are connected in an invisible web of empathy—because when one of our furry loved ones crosses the rainbow bridge, every other pet parent feels it too, as if it happened to them.
In these moments, it’s so important to surround yourself only with people who are sensitive to your grief. That’s what helps you move through all the stages of mourning—without skipping any. In my case, I gave myself permission to cry for many days and fully experience the loss of a family member. As it should be.
It’s true that everyone deals with loss in their own way, and whatever that way is—it deserves respect. Comments like: “Don’t be like that, cheer up,” or “But he was already old, right?” or “Why don’t you just adopt another dog?” or “There are so many hungry children in the world and you’re crying over a pet?”—these do not help anyone who’s grieving. Compassion should never come wrapped in judgment, or it’ll have the opposite effect.
I’m reminded of a passage from “When I Cry” by the modernist Brazilian writer Clarice Lispector:
“But we don’t always have to be strong. We must honor our fragility. These are gentle tears, born of a legitimate sadness to which we are entitled. They fall slowly, and when they reach our lips we taste salt—clear, pure, and born of the deepest pain.”
And because we honored our emotions, my family experienced something that should be available to everyone: we had a blessed moment to say our final goodbye. I explained to him step by step what would happen and told him I would be with him until the very last breath. We then held a private cremation ceremony for his body—everything with the dignity and integrity a family deserves. Finally, I whispered: See you soon, my son.
The next day, our home felt emptier. Each of us could feel the space Raji had left—not just in our hearts, but in our daily routines. In those moments, we’d gather silently in the living room, offering a quiet prayer that his spirit was being joyfully welcomed by Saint Francis of Assisi into a vast green field filled with other dogs and animals.
And little by little, life begins to flow again. Sadness slowly makes room for a feeling that Portuguese expresses beautifully with one word: Saudade—the heartache of missing someone deeply. In time—each person in their own way—we come to realize that the true feeling is gratitude. Gratitude for the years of companionship, the unconditional love, and the joy shared with these incredible beings I, as a writer (father, immigrant, non-white, over 40, and LGBTQ+), lovingly call Little Angels.
And just like in winter, when nature secretly scatters seeds across the fields, soon enough those seeds sprout—announcing the arrival of spring. Life is beautiful like that. Truly.
In my case, I’ve got exciting news: on April 23rd, I’ll be in Barcelona for the Sant Jordi celebrations, signing books during the Books and Roses event. What a rush! Thank you, my son—from above, I know you’re still sending all the good vibes. Love you always. 💖

On April 23rd, I’ll be at the Barcelona Book Fair (Parades de Roses i Llibres) signing copies of my book:
“Raji – Mi familia: Una historia de inmigración, resistencia, coraje y amor”
with my publisher @editorialcirculorojo, during the magical Diada de Sant Jordi.
📍 Location: Las Ramblas (Santa Mònica)
📚 Booth: 80–81
🕔 Time: 5:00 PM
This is such a special moment for me. I believe one of the greatest dreams for any writer is to meet their readers, to exchange words, glances, and stories. And what better day than one where literature, love, and art take center stage?
If you enjoy my work and want to support me so I can keep creating, click the button and buy me a coffee! Thank you for your affection and trust.
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And lastly, just a quick reminder: in my online store, you’ll find a list of physical and digital retailers where you can purchase my book, along with other products created by me.

And lastly, just a quick reminder: in my online store, you’ll find a list of physical and digital retailers where you can purchase my book, along with other products created by me.
I’d absolutely love to hear your thoughts on the book once you’ve read it. Your support means the world to me.
Thank you for all the love you’ve shown me over the years. I promise to be back soon with more updates on upcoming projects.
Until then, take good care of yourselves!
With love,
Alan Leites
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