I usually write about the happiest times we experience on the farm. The happiest times are so joyous and the sad times… well, they are as sad as they can get. Like everyone who is paying attention, we have a front-row seat to the cycle of life here on the farm. Today I had a reminder pop up on my Facebook page from 10 years ago. It was thanking my friends for keeping my mother in their prayers. Mother had just been placed in hospice care due to her pulmonary fibrosis and congestive heart failure with cardiac irregularities. It reminded me of the grief we experience on the farm. Fortunately, the celebrations far out way the sad times, but they all deserve a grieving process and a time of healing.
A few days ago Randy and I were discussing an article he was reading about the grief that people go through when told they have a terminal illness, and when they were given what I prefer to refer to it as, “an expiration date.” Some doctors were ultra-conservative and coldly realistic, while other doctors gave unreachable and unrealistic goals while preventing the ill person and their family to adjust to the truth and make all the preparations that they would have wanted to make had they known the truth. It is all about perspective. Randy asked me if I preferred the bold honesty of the doctor that I experienced with my late husband or if I would have preferred if I could have been able to be left in the dark for just a little bit. He said it half-joking because he knows me well enough to know that I never want to stand in the darkness of a false reality, scared to death or not. I much prefer to deal with my fear and face the problem head-on. It seems that grief and death have been a topic that has floated around our house a lot in the past few days. Randy has always allowed me space to express my feelings about my losses. It is so comforting when a person that loves you allows you to be who you are, express what you have felt or are feeling, and all without judgment or recommendations, but simply by being present.
Today when I saw the old post, it reminded me that fall is the season when so many of my loved ones transitioned to their new life on a different plane. I always felt like they were in a rush to get home for the holidays…. so, to speak. It also always brings me comfort to know they were greeted by people who love them to welcome them home who I feel confident has prepared a banquet of love and light for their arrival.
Since I became a farmer’s wife Randy and I have had several celebrations and losses. We were so grateful to have been able to have both of our mothers present at our wedding.
They both, in their own way, had expressed their concern about each of us being alone, I am confident that they were more concerned about it than either of us were. I can only believe it is because they were both widows and know the void in their lives and wanted something different for their children.
My mother was the first loss after we were married. I was very fortunate to be able to spend every day with her in her last month of life. I don’t know how I would have managed that if I wasn’t living on the other side of the state the majority of my time when her health took such a quick dip. We never spoke of her impending death, but we talked a lot about her life and about her younger years, courtship, and marriage with my dad, and so many stories about her siblings, parents, and how her mother-in-law (my grandmother) helped her to become a better mother. It was all very sweet. And when I asked her if there was anything that she wanted me to do for her, she always asked about family, about me being happy… or finding her some fried chicken livers and mash potatoes. She was at peace with her life, and I feel certain the other side had been whispering her name for a while; it seemed as though the invitations were getting louder and louder. Randy was my rock. Her eyes lit up every time she saw him knowing he would play along with her silly games of giving me a hard time, and he did as well as drive all over the place to get her the perfect livers and mashed potatoes and gravy.
A few years later we lost Randy’s mother and she had her own way of leaving this world as well, again in the fall of the year. Each leaving a void that neither of us expected or planned on. So many years later, when we pass through the town where she lived, we still gaze up her road to see if any lights are on in the house and usually comment how we miss being able to drop in on her. Both of our mothers were strong independent women that had been widowed for many years. Having been a widow for 20 years myself, I especially appreciated their strength and determination to do things their way, and my heart hurt a little more than most when they spoke of how they missed their partners in life, their husbands, with whom they shared their entire lives.
I am always prevented from having too big of a pity party for myself when I think of the losses my mother had experienced. She had lost her parents, two siblings, two children, a son-in-law, a husband, and most of her closest friends. She was with me, helping me care for my late husband, home, and children every day. She had my back when I needed it most, and she was with my sister at the end of her life when Mary needed her the most. She remains an example of strength and overcoming the obstacles that get thrown in our path while moving forward, even if somedays they were tiny baby steps.
I like to think we display the same faith and strength when the bad times visit us on the farm. We know old cows do not live forever. Randy has some that he feels deserve to live their life out in peace and comfort on the farm and dying among friends. When this happens not only do we grieve, Randy especially, but the herd grieves. He tells how when one of our older cows died unexpectedly, the others came to pay their respects. He gave them time to say their goodbyes before he disposed of the body. When a new mother has a stillborn calf or the calf does not survive, the mother grieves, cries, and searches for their baby. She usually returns to that spot where she last saw her calf for months later. They often try to adopt a calf from an inattentive mother, which usually does not work, but we have seen it happen given the right circumstances. Breach births present high-risk conditions that can result in the loss of the calf, the mother or the mother, and the calf. Losing both is a real heartbreaker. The mothers sometimes require a C-Section, creating a situation where all kinds of things can go wrong. When this happens, we are all sad and grieve the loss of life or lives.
One of the sweetest things that Randy does to help a grieving mother is to make every attempt to find a young calf for the mother who just lost their baby. We have been fortunate on a few occasions that we had a cow give birth to twins and Randy fostered one calf to the grieving mother. It helps everyone involved and changes the grieving mother’s world. He believes it helps them with their grief and long term it makes for a healthier, and happier mamma. Sometimes that goes smoothly and sometimes, not so well. Last year we had two cows that shared a calf, it made for a fat healthy calf, with dinner always available. The mothers seem to do OK with the arrangement.
It is especially hard when we fought hard to save a new baby from the freezing temperatures and then much later, with no warning they stop thriving, or when they are born with a defect that doesn’t allow them to thrive and survive. Randy works day and night to do whatever can be done so we feel confident that in the end, he did everything possible to make the cow or calf comfortable and increase the odds of survival. I believe that helps with grief, leaving less space for regrets, which are a natural process during grief and loss.
I have often described obstetrical nursing as, “the best of times and the worst of times…” farming is no different. We have so many successes to celebrate. Sometimes it is simply the ability to easily move the herd or get them in the lot before Dr. Stan arrives to “work cows.” Sometimes it is successfully introducing a new bull to the ladies or getting the auto watering tanks to work like they were designed to work. At the same time, we learn to grieve the losses as they come and keep moving forward the best that we can.
Farming is not for the weak of heart… I always say farming is the perfect vocation for a habitual worrier because there is always something to worry about. On the other side of the coin, there is always something to celebrate. We celebrate the rain, we celebrate dry weather on hay cutting days, we celebrate crops getting in the ground and we celebrate harvest just before a big rainstorm. We celebrate new births, and we celebrate new bulls.
We celebrate sunrises, sunsets, and moonrises. We celebrate the breeze that we enjoy while resting on the porch. We have spent a lot of time this year celebrating all the birds that entertained us and the eagles that soar over our house. We even celebrate thunderstorms and the smell of rain that comes before.
My wish for everyone is that you fill your day with more celebrations than losses to grieve. When you are faced with losses, take the time to grieve them and celebrate the love that the situation has brought to your life that causes you to feel the loss… and do your best, after you have given yourself some time to heal a bit, to go back to moving forward, even if it is only tiny baby steps… That is what people that love us the most would wish for us. We are all participating in the cycle of life and we want that for our loved ones when we hear our name whispered, calling us home.
I would like to share one of my favorite writings by Thich Nhat Hanh
This body is not me.
I am not limited by this body.
I am life without boundaries.
I have never been born,
and I have never died.
Look at the ocean and the sky filled with stars,
manifestations from my wondrous true mind.
Since before time, I have been free.
Birth and death are only doors through which we pass,
sacred thresholds on our journey.
Birth and death are a game of hide-and-seek.
So laugh with me,
hold my hand,
let us say goodbye,
say goodbye, to meet again soon.
We meet today.
We will meet again tomorrow.
We will meet at the source every moment.
We meet each other in all forms of life.
~Thich Nhat Hanh
Now you know why…
I Love the Farm
And
I Love You, Randy
CITY LIFE 2 FARMERS WIFE 