Coming from a family where I was disowned for my own life’s decision, I carry a quiet fear deep in my heart—the terrifying thought of losing someone who means everything to me and my family. Every single day, I’d look at them and whisper a prayer of thanks, just for the gift of having them in my life. But then, the day I always dreaded finally came.

For over a decade, our family shared a bond with our children’s pediatrician that went far beyond doctor and patient. Together, we weathered every storm—the highest highs and the lowest lows. When the world turned upside down during Covid, and we welcomed a precious newborn into our family, he was our anchor. In those terrifying, uncertain days, he would tell me, “Please, do not take your babies to the emergency room. You call me directly. I am here for you, twenty-four hours a day.” He handled every crisis with endless wisdom, brilliant knowledge, gentle patience, and a care that felt like a warm embrace. I can say, without a doubt, that he is the best doctor in the entire world.

I smile through my tears remembering all the times I walked into his office carrying a heavy pile of worries about my son. I would pour my heart out, venting about every little struggle, and he would just sit there and listen with the most incredible patience. When I was finally done, he wouldn’t lecture or judge. Instead, he would quietly walk over to Sudhish, wrap his arms around him in a tight, squeezy hug, and whisper, “Sudhish, you know what? You are one of my absolute best patients, and your family is one of my best families. I’m not just saying that—I truly mean it from my heart. So, my little boy, why don’t you listen to your mom? Tell me what’s wrong. Let’s make a plan together. First, you eat the healthy food your mama makes for you, and then you can have a little bit of the tasty food you want. Does that sound okay, mama?”

He wasn’t just a doctor to my children. He was a guardian angel who taught me how to live a balanced, beautiful life.

Because I come from a broken family, I’ve always struggled with a deep, paralyzing fear of losing the people I love. It’s a scar I carry, and sometimes, that fear takes over. When it comes to protecting my children, I can overstep, panic, and cross boundaries.

I remember when my son was going through an extreme health crisis, and panic completely blinded me. I refused to take any suggestions. I told him, “Doctor, I will never be convinced until I get him checked by the world’s best doctor. I need an appointment with a Boston-based child specialist.” Instead of getting defensive, he completely cooperated and helped me secure the appointment. When the specialists gave us the ultimate assurance that my son’s condition was completely normal for a teenager, I called him right after and poured out everything we’d discussed. He listened, quietly and patiently. That very same day, after his exhausting office hours, he called me back. We stayed on the phone for over an hour. He spoke from his heart about what his patients mean to him, his sacred service, his work ethic, his decades of experience, and the true nature of his care. I agreed with every word. It also gave me the beautiful opportunity to express what he and his service mean to me.

Twice in our journey—once during the height of COVID and once during my son’s health crisis—my anxiety caused me to fail to place my full confidence in his treatment. My motherly worry made me overdo things. Yet, even when I pushed things to the limit, we always talked, and we always sorted it out. The most beautiful part of our relationship was that the thought of discontinuing never once entered our minds. No matter what happened, we always regained our faith in one another. We kept working together for the sake of the kids’ best upbringing and health. This relationship has seen so many ups and downs over the last decade, but we both stayed strong, and our bond grew deeper with every single incident. The thought of disconituning each other has never occurred on our heads.

He has always been a God-sent rescuer in my life whenever my kids were in trouble.

As I sit here writing these words, my eyes are so heavy and filled with tears that my vision is getting hazy. My mind is restless, and my heart is in deep, aching pain. The sheer thought of not being able to see him anymore scares me so much. Being separated from his care is something we never, ever thought would happen. This is a relationship of over a decade—it is a piece of our lives.

But even through the tears, I am pushing myself to write this, just to express how incredibly fortunate and blessed we have been to have him as our pediatrician. I know I will eventually find another doctor for my children, but it doesn’t matter. Absolutely nobody can ever take Dr. Andonian’s place. Our journey with him has been nothing short of amazing, and we will never have enough words in this lifetime to express our deepest gratitude toward him.

We wish him nothing but the absolute best of health and happiness in his life ahead after his retirement. And more than anything, I hope and pray with all my heart that our relationship will stay unchanged, even after his professional service comes to an end.

Thank you, Doctor. From the bottom of our hearts, thank you.