remembering Sana'a

Sana’a Michael Christensen-Blondin

January 28, 2012 to May 17, 2014

It is with profound and aching sadness that we announce that our precious Sana’a Michael Christensen-Blondin died in his father’s arms at 2pm on Saturday, May 17th, 2014. With this, a bright and beautiful light in our community was senselessly extinguished. 

Sana’a came into this world strong and with purpose on a cold winter night on January 28, 2012 and remained surrounded by love every single moment of his life. Our beautiful son, brother, nephew, cousin, grandchild, and great-grandchild filled our lives with so many tender hugs, soft kisses, quiet cuddles, and so, so much laughter and fun. His huge smile has been permanently etched onto our hearts, and onto the hearts of so many people across Yellowknife and the world.

Sana’a spent his life running, jumping, playing, laughing, shouting, leaping, dancing, cuddling, kissing, and sleeping every night of his life nestled in between his mum, dad and sister, Adze'. Sana’a was a busy boy, and desperate to grow up so that he could take gymnastics and swimming lessons with his sister Adze’, run as fast as his cousin Nahze’, learn to skate and play hockey with his Grandpa and Uncle Michael, and teach his little cousin Samuel how to be a big boy. He was well on his way to reaching all of these goals: he had just started potty training, his words were developing a mile a minute, and he was just starting to transition into size 3 clothes.

Our boy loved being outside. He loved driving his trucks through the dirt, setting up his plastic dinosaurs in the trees, helping his Daddy in the yard, and going out on the water in the family boat. He loved books, and often visited his Nana for quiet moments, just the two of them, sitting with his favourite books about cars and trucks, dinosaurs and animals. At nighttime, snuggled in between his mum and sister, they would read even more books together.

Sana’a also loved to go for drives in Daddy’s truck out to construction sites where he watched the big machines from his car seat, throwing himself around his Mum's legs or teasing her when she wanted to take a video of him saying a new word, taking naps in his parents’ arms with his warm cheek pressed up to theirs, playing pretend with his sister Adze’, who was also his best friend, and falling asleep at night with his hands in hers, eating caribou, bannock and any kind of fresh berry, making precious memories with his oldest sisters, Naoka and Sade', waiting for his cousin Nahze’ to come over to play at the end of his school day, showering his little cousin Samuel’s face with kisses, spending time with all of his loving grandparents and aunts and uncles, dressing up in costumes (from princess dresses and princess shoes, to dragons and tigers and superheroes—he had the most vibrant imagination), running around outside in the muddy yard in only a diaper and rubber boots, patting his big dog, Jake, and so, so, so much more.

Sana’a lives on in the wind and the trees, the birds in the sky, the sunrise, and the sunset, for which he was named. Most of all, he lives on in our hearts, especially those of his mother and father, Jocelyn and Grant, his sisters Adze’, Sade’ and Naoka, his grandparents Jill, Vern and Ayrma, Bes’ha and George, his great Nana, Eleanor, his “TT” Julia and Uncle Corey, Auntie Amanda and Uncle Michael, Auntie Karen and Uncle Dave, Auntie Dawn and Uncle Justus, Auntie Cailan, Uncle Craig and Uncle Arran, his cousins Samuel, Nahze’, and Kiyedinaci, his dayhome friends, with whom he spent so many hours playing, and many, many extended family members and friends from across the North, Canada and the world.