Grief And Joy Loss And Rebirth

I have been avoiding this blog. Because somehow posting some of what has happened will somehow make it feel real and official. I have been feeling very tired, emotionally wrung out. Also a bit lost and listless. One of the most important relationships I have had in my life recently came to an end. There is a hole in my heart and in my soul and it is full of broken glass grinding into my internal organs, when it isn’t so painful that I am just numb, it is so painful that it drives me to distraction and the hurt is blinding. With some regularity I break down and cry. I struggle and fight for every inch of function at the moment.

Pikku, originated in New Hampshire. We picked her up the day after I came home from the hospital with a broken pelvis. An injury from which I have never fully recovered to the full range of function I had prior to it. Pikku, is the reason I did not lose a lot more movement and range of motion and function then I did. All day every day her sweet eyes begged me to get my  walker and take take her to pee. Or, her refusal to tell me she had to go, would force me to get my walker and go clean up the mess she made on the floor. I carried her home under my jacket with her head sticking out through the neck all the way from NH to MA. She was my baby from the first second I saw her.  As she grew, we found ourselves purchasing a larger bed. Since the day we brought her home, co-sleeping was a requirement for her happiness. She got huge. 125 lbs. We loved her. She was my child and best buddy all at the same time. We played in the garden together. She would follow me out to the pool, where I would swim and she would watch scandalized and protective fearful that I would drown. I am a rather good swimmer. It would take something truly horrific and obscene for me to drown. But that never made her feel better about me getting in the water. She had friends she would visit all around the neighborhood. She was always close. Always trying to please and to get everything right. She was not very smart. I must be honest about this point. She was as dumb as a door knob. But she was loyal, and sweet, and perhaps the most responsive, sensitive soul I have ever known. She spent her life trying always to make us happy. And we were happy. She was everything for us.

We rarely leave here. But when we do, it is usually to Newbyuryport, about an hour and 10 minutes from here, to visit my mum. Have dinner out. There is a restaurant near her that does very good indian food called The Jewel In The Crown.  (No one from this restaurant has done anything but their job. I have received no money or free stuff. I mention them because that is where we go to eat and we go there because they do fantastic food.) I bring up the facts in parenthesis, because, I am sick of the BS. I am sick of all legit information being hidden behind paywalls. I am sick of influencers trying to sell stuff they like only because that thing pays them to like it. This is a blog about my life and my small farm. I write it to keep perspective and to share some of what is up here, cuaz I think often it is fun or interesting. This blog is not some get rich scheme. I want anything I mention here to actually be something I legit value. This restaurant in Newburyport, is exactly that because they serve great food and I have enjoyed eating there over the years. Anyway, we went to go have dinner with my mum. We came home from the most amazing dinner, and Pikku, who is almost never left alone, came downstairs and did her happy greeting ritual. Her tail was wagging, she was giving kisses, doing the butt wiggle…. Then suddenly, in the middle of her joy, she collapsed. She was gone instantly. We still rushed her to the vet just in case… Getting her into the car wasn’t easy. But we would do anything for her. So we got her in and sped away to the vet. It was too late though. She has been gone now a bit over a week. I have been in a state of…. Half here and half gone with her, since her life came to it’s sudden conclusion.

We have suffered a tragedy we will never get over. In time we will move on from it. Homesteading has taught me that if nothing else. It has taught me there are cycles to life and to nature. We are all subject to those cycles. We are even, captives of those cycles. In a little time we will get some new household fur babies and start over again. But for now we will sit with our pain and our memories in the empty place that still smells like her on the sofa. We will grieve. 

Usually I associate loss and death with winter. our precious goodest of girls passed, right on the cusp of spring. Which made her passing even more unexpected. It also created a new small light in our darkness without her. We experienced tremendous joy, when 2 of our goats produced four kids apiece! New life. Every day, we sit on the house steps and we feed them formula from a baby bottle. Recently, we let them out of the shed to meet the hill out back that serves as the pasture. It is hard no to smile while I watch them bouncing around on the hill out back. They dedicate a great deal of time to tormenting their mothers in search of food. They also torment the rest of the goats who gently push them away. They have begun getting to know their daddy as well. He seems quite proud of them. Who can blame them they are adorable. So far 2 of these kids have been named. One we call Feisty, because he is always rioting on the hill. Or he is climbing one of the other goats as if they were Haltitunturi, in Enontekio. It is hard not to smile through my grief at his antics. he runs and plays, and climbs on everyone and everything. The other baby goat that stands out might be my favorite. The runt of one of the litters. The other didn’t seem to really have a runt. We call this runt Greedy, because he is very pushy and eats a lot at bottle feeding time. He is soft and sweet. He smells of hay and baby in my arms, as I lift his warm formula filled bottle and hold it while he aggressively sucks, until he has filled himself. His little eyes get glazed and his lids close half way. He is a lot like a baby. Every so often he shouts about Baaaa! Then he looks up at me with his dad’s big blue eyes. and i kinda melt.

In several weeks, these baby goats will be rehomed. But I am hoping to have Greedy neutered, so he can stay here just as a pet and part of the flock. he has become very dear to us, especially as we grieve the loss of our furbaby of quite some time. Sitting holding him outside I face the woods. I have view of trees and grass, spring is here. Not just outside but in the greenhouse also where my young vegies grow happily like weeds. Soon it will be time to move them outside into the fertile garden and the landscape that grows more green and jubilant daily. I am not ready yet for the joy offered by the bursting green of spring. But I must embraced what needs me such as little Greedy, and the food in the greenhouse. 

I will always miss our Pikku. But in time I will learn to face and accept the spring’s gifts of rebirth, renewal, and joy again. I am just not ready quite yet. There is a cycle to all things. The human condition I believe, is sitting in witness, experiencing the cycle as it happens. Accepting what we feel. Being present for those feelings and those who need us. There is an old story from my childhood I keep replaying in my mind. it is about the Buddha. A woman comes to him while he is meditating in the forest. Asks him to revive her dead son. He tells her of course he will. But he needs her to first go gather rice from a home and a family that has never known loss. She goes door to door begging. everywhere she goes, there are kind words. All offer her the rice she needs. But all have suffered loss. Even those who are the poorest are willing to give her their one meal a day. But they too in their home have experienced loss. She returns to the Buddha, with an empty bowl. Understanding, loss is part of the human experience. There is no way around it. A;; we can do, is be present for it and go through the emotional cycle that follows. That is part of what it means to be part of the sangha of samsara. We would like to thank everyone who is here for us in this time of grief, when every day is a struggle to get out of bed in the morning. We are grateful for the rice you offer so generously. We know you too have mourned and grieved and that what you offer us now is far more than rice. It is community, strength, understanding, and support. We know we are not the only ones who will grieve our wonderful fur baby who had such an impact on everyone she ever met. She loved all of you. So please allow me to offer her goodbyes which due to her sudden end she was not able to offer herself.

Spring comes, bringing new life and adventures.
It was one of Pikku’s favorite times. 
Let the joy and adventure of spring find you and carry you though till summer.
Thank you for reading
Amanda of Wildflower Farm