As Micah fast approaches 21 months, the age at which his brother died, things are a little difficult for all of us. Part of it is fear. Part of it is the constant reminder of Tiggy in everything he does.
It isn’t easy.
Whenever we go outside, Micah moos to me. It is a very good moo. It starts down as low as his little toddler voice can go and comes out a long, “Mmmmmmm!” with gathering strength. Just like the cattle he is asking me to take him to see. And I almost always take him.
If I don’t, I feel sick with guilt and fear and regret. And I end up going back outside to take him to the cattle. Because I think of all the times Tiggy wanted to go with me to feed the chickie chickies. I did take him a lot. I even took him when it was inconvenient and packing him into that snow suit took longer than the chores I was going out to do. But sometimes, I just wanted to get them done and left him with his sister or his daddy. Because then I just wanted to get them done.
Now, I just want him there beside me, slowing me down, holding my hand.
Sometimes it seems like we’re slowly getting things back together. We have our own early warning system for anything that moves onto our property and they are also on continual insect patrol.
We rarely find ticks on anyone or even on the dogs anymore.
My favorite lawnmowers are growing well. And due to a combination of their services and a lack of rain, we haven’t had to mow since the first of May.
My Welsh Harlequin went broody and hatched out a clutch of chicken eggs. We didn’t really need any more mixed breed chickens, but next year she will hopefully have duck eggs to hatch.
I was looking forward to watching Welshie’s little chicks grow up alongside her and sharing the pictures of the progress. But then one chick went missing. We found another one’s body near the water dish. And I realized they were being killed by the geese.
So I took the survivors from their mother and put them in a pen while mama paced outside, calling to her babies.
And my other ducklings are getting so big. From a distance, I sometimes confuse the largest of them with Welshie. So far, they are showing good conformation. I’m hoping to show them and to breed them.
But then my daughter let Jake out and he ate one of my drakes. And I’m back to feeling like I have to make a choice. An impossible choice between the poultry which is a part of the vision we have for this place and this dog who lays his head in my lap when I sit on the porch and look across to the cemetary where my son is buried.
And it seems like I shouldn’t get so upset over a chick or a duck or even weeds in the onions. After all, I lost a child. What could possibly compare to that? But all losses are connected and I cannot lose a chick without the pain of losing Tiggy surfacing again.
And as I listened to the things I cried out into my pillow, I realized that part of me thinks that losing Tiggy was more than enough. Now somehow all the other problems of life are just supposed to put themselves on hold while we take a nice, long, deep breath and learn to walk again.
And part of me feels like failure is inevitable.
So I look at my new little Ameraucana chicks. I’ve been waiting for six months to get these little guys. I want to see them the way I used to see new additions to our little homestead, before death and failure and grief were such an intimate part of it. I want to see our breeding plan and next year’s chicks. I want to see the beginnings of an egg business and our first customers for hatching eggs or day old chicks.
But my vison of the future is somewhat clouded. So for now I focus on Micah’s excited squeals and his bright eyes and his little finger pointing at the chicks through the bars of the brooder while he exclaims, “Keekee! Keekee!”
Because right now is really all the time we have.
I homeschool my children on a small hobby farm in rural Nebraska and write about life more abundantly, from the joy of a baby's smile to the almost unbearable grief of losing a son while seeking beauty instead of ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning, a garment of praise instead of the spirit of despair (Isaiah 61:3)
Oh, Dana, this is so touching and so beautiful. You know what it makes me think? “Beauty from Ashes.” Life doesn’t “hold” for anyone, unfortunately, you’re right. But you’re also right to say that right now is what we have. And right now you have so much to enjoy with mookie. I love watching you expand your little homestead, with all your chickens and your ducks. Blessings.
Thank you.
It is nice to see our investments starting to do what we planned. We have an abundance of eggs, one regular egg customer and an unemployed family we’ve been able to give some extras to. Our guinea fowl are doing an excellent job of eating insects and I have an incubator full of more eggs I’m hoping will expand the flock to the size I want. The geese are great mowers. And hopefully next year, I’ll have duck and goose eggs to incubate.
Praying for you, Dana. For wisdom and guidance when it comes to Jake, for peace and comfort every day. God bless you, friend.
Thank you so much, April.
Thank you for your post that shared memories of pain mixed with the new memories of hope and joy. I think that is so important for me to hear. Your posts really shape my days and help me to stay grounded in the Lord and cushioned slightly in the sometimes and often harsh reality. You are a gem. And it is neat to relate to so many of your locally-related posts since I live close!
Thank you for the encouraging words. It helps to know I’m not just rambling in the dark. I so enjoy chatting with you now and again on FB, too.
Praying.
Thank you.
The vision of the future may be somewhat clouded (and that happens in ALL people’s lives!). However, all the time ANYONE has is this very moment of life. We don’t know what the next moment will hold. So live it fully and completely. You will never regret it…….
{{{Dana}}}
Blessings,
Tammy ~@~
Dana,
I save all of your writings, or at least try too, because they touch my heart so much and I can relate to what you share. Also, if I don’t have time to read them all right away, but they are available for later.This one I decided to take time to read since I haven’t been on here as much.
You talk of the losses bringing up your loss of Tiggy, and that they all connect . I really understand feeling that way, because I am dealing with some issues in my life that are very intwined from experiences and somehow connecting years of them over and over until who knows where it all begain. I am going to a healing room to work through and untangle the cords that hinder and dispair me. I am so glad to hear you write yours.Maybe it means you’re working yours out sooner. So hard with the loss you had and with the time. You are an inspiration to more of us who read your blogs and writing than you may ever know. Just keep looking to the Lord. Don’t get side tracked as I did so many times.
Thanks Dana, you are an inpiration,
Lydia
In the business of life it’s sometimes hard to see that right now is all the time we have. Yet a reminder of the fragility of life and love stops me in my tracks. Your blogs keep me reminded Dana, as I’m sure they do so many. Thank you.
Such a beautiful, tender reminder…
thanks, as always, for sharing the journey.
It is so very interesting to read it encourage all the readers .And inspired then to be strong and braved .Thanks for sharing this ,.
Thank you…. I needed to hear your words.
Thank you. I needed to read this. Still praying for you.
Your husband being there for your son was stunning. I’m commenting in the wrong sections, I know, but I can’t get your posts off my mind, and I just jump in with thoughts.
As always, you and your family are in my prayers.
I understand how difficult it is with a 21 month old, and relating to Tiggy at that age. My daughter is going through the same thing, as her little boy died at age three, three years ago, and she now has another three year old boy. It is very hard for her this year, but she is a strong Christian, and she keeps a positive attitude.
I, too, find myself crying out of the blue much too often.
Your writing is so beautiful! You really need to organize your posts about Tiggy into a book and get it published. It would help so many people who can relate to the loss of a child.
nancyr