Tania Xenis

–Tania Xenis

Tania was the kindest person I've known. The kindest person anyone who knew her well has known. My very first impression of her was “What a weird combination of sweetness and strength.”

Before meeting her, I always assumed my first impressions to be wrong, associated sweetness with diabetes, and distrusted anyone who smiled too much. But that first impression couldn’t have been more right—and my Slavic pessimism couldn’t survive years of Tania’s love, smiles and generosity. She taught me that not only could true sweetness coexist with strength, it is strength.

A friend of ours described her as “Linda Hamilton arms and a heart of gold.”

She happily did five-day, 450km adventure races in deserts, mountains and northern rainforests with no sleep, except for a brief nap while riding her bike that knocked her teeth loose when it turned out that mountain-biking while sleeping didn’t work. She lost toenails in waves, like sharks’ teeth. She took the lead in caving expeditions because she was the thinnest on the team and didn’t mind having to exhale to fit into the tightest holes. She dragged people off mountains for over a decade as part of Search & Rescue. Her first cancer, breast cancer, she fought off so effortlessly most people didn’t even know about it. And she took a late stage 4 colon cancer diagnosis that suggested 12 months would be a miracle—a timeline she never publicized so it wouldn’t stress people—and fought it out to nearly three years.

She found Samson and me in a crazy mess and made us her whole world and loved us so fully that it healed the cracks, melted the walls and washed away the grumpy bits. She and I agreed neither of us wanted a partner who would “complete us.” We were both complete already. But she did make me whole. She made our son whole. Not as a puzzle piece, but in the way sunshine makes plants whole.

She smiled at everyone, every day, and it was always genuine. She didn’t have a family tree, she had a family hedge, because the love in her family was such rich soil. Every landscaping client inevitably became a friend, because she genuinely cared about people and about making their world a more beautiful place. She used to laugh that half of landscaping was marriage counselling. She never said a harsh word about anyone, ever, not even people who deserved it (including me sometimes). She was gentle even to her cancer—she called it “a garden growing inside of me.”

She always put other people first. Always. When she was given her prognosis, she said, “No, I want to make it until Samson finishes high school so that it doesn’t mess up his classes.” When making it to graduation no longer looked realistic, she said “Ok, I just need to make it to summer. I think that would be best.” She wasn’t scared of cancer or death or anything else for that matter. Her only concern was protecting her son.

She couldn’t make it to summer, but maybe winter makes sense. She was writing a book titled The Death of the Garden: “It’s about the garden in winter and how it can be the most beautiful of all gardens. It’s how I always designed. Plan the garden around winter and all other seasons are just a bonus. People get so caught up with flower colour sometimes they forget most often flowers are only around for a few weeks before they fade. Then you’re looking at a lot of leaves for the rest of the year. The leaves better look good.”

I really hoped she’d see another spring. But the way she lived and loved us all was bigger than any one season. It wasn’t about the flowers—though everything about her was beautiful. It was about the form and texture and the things that had the power to last across all seasons.

It’s winter for Tania now. Her gardens are not gone, and neither is she. We’ve lost her colour, but she’s left all of us with so much. The reason it hurts so much is because of how much she gave us. Picture one thing that she left with you. That she gave to you. That you still carry on with you. For me its love and the power of kindness.

She was the woman I wanted to grow old with. I was the luckiest man in the world to have had a decade with her as my wife and Samson's mother.

On Wednesday, March 9, 2022, 2PM, please come join us, her family and her friends in celebrating Tania's life at First Memorial Funeral Services & Boal Chapel, 1505 Lillooet Road, North Vancouver. Crying is encouraged, but laughter is preferred. Dress code is sunny.

Epilogue: After years with Search & Rescue, Tania was always reminding friends to leave a trip plan. Please leave her one last trip plan at https://www.dignitymemorial.com/obituaries/north-vancouver-bc/tania-xenis-10611431/add-memory. You can also view the service at https://funeraweb.tv/en/diffusions/48670.