Sweeping. I watch as the bristles push dirt and hay, reminants of a tiny goats presence so brief in our lives. As I push past boxes stacked in the corner of my garage, boxes I ignore. They smell like her, they remind me of her, my mom. Reminants. Loss. Always trying to clean up, to fix...the unfixable, the mess that is life.
I never knew what it was like on the other side, being the parent. The hard part of life sits squarely on your shoulders. The clean up. Removing the things that sting, wiping tears, digging soil to lay to rest the loved. Explaining what is unexplainable. I never knew this side of it.
Our precious Poppy passed away. Part of life, is experiencing death. But it’s hard. And quite frankly it feels like it’s all to common for us anymore. It’s tempting to harden the heart, to grow numb. But we continue to love, and in that deep love we feel deep grief. To most she was just a baby goat, to Charlee...she was her world.
Yesterday we fought hard to combat the unknown, and in that battle there was anticipation that our efforts would bring about healing. There were glimmers of hope earlier in the day, but as evening set in so did the reality was we were losing this battle. I observed similar behavior when it wasn’t just a pet, but my own mom’s suffering with my kids. Charlee stayed ever vigilant, holding, hugging, whispering ‘I love yous’...even when it was excruciating to watch she stayed till the bitter end. Aiden was desperate to flee. He took a bike ride, then called my Dad for an escape. It’s a glimpse into my children. I am like Charlee, although I am not nearly as brave. I can fully empathize with Aiden’s desire to ignore what hurts. But truth be told, running away from it won’t offer you much sanctuary...because the hurt will be there when you get back. No matter how badly you don’t want to feel it, it finds you eventually.
I don’t think I ate or drank anything after lunch. When I came home to find my little greeter not wagging her goat tail in anticipation of getting out of her kennel and into the house I knew we were in trouble. She passed away after ten o’clock. My dad & Chris took Aiden home with them. I drug the bedding out to the living room, Charlee & I snuggled up, and let exhaustion soothe us to sleep.
It’s strange how out of sync Sully and I are in this situation. As our little family navigates the valley of deep sorrow; he is over one hundred miles away, in a different landscape entirely. The cut deepens as the salty tears of our kids broken hearts spill over, causing it to sting. His being home wouldn’t have changed the outcome, but his being home would have offered us all comfort. I feel an infection coming on.
On day sixteen the carb counts took a backseat. We instead got to experience firsthand the brutality of nature. To again be reminded there is little we have control over. That sin took something beautiful like life and twisted into the ugly reality of death & decay...and even in the last labored breaths of a beloved pet we can grasp for the hope that there is something better that awaits us. This life, full of moments like this, is not all we can hope for.
Today was somber. Our routine had to change. The creature that was at the focal point of our daily lives no longer requires our attention. Pangs of sorrow. I assure Charlee it gets easier. I don’t think she believes me.
Sully comes home tomorrow. He called to talk about his time there. It’s strange to hear excitement and joy in his voice when our time here was so drastically different. Today I cleaned out the pen, boxed up all her things, wiped tears and smothered the kids in hugs and kisses. There was no excitement or joy. I am grasping for grace, but even if I get ahold of it will I use it? Do I believe he is deserving of it? Does it even matter? I’m not worthy...yet God continually offers it up to me.
Day Seventeen I wasn’t hungry. Not for food. For answers...how do I do this right? How do I show my kids, my husband love, grace, and forgiveness properly? Point them to Jesus. He’s really the only example worthy of following.
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