Each season brings its lessons.
Some are easy to learn, others are so difficult.
This summer has been a summer of early goodbyes. I've held off on talking about it here because I'm still sorting through the many "whys" and the shame, the guilt, the feelings of failure, the sadness.
Within two short weeks of each other we said unexpected goodbyes to Moonstone our angora rabbit, Smudge our barn kitty, and Mortimer our mouse.
And death – especially death that feels untimely – is hard to explain to children. It's even hard to explain to ourselves.
My view of death is not one of an ending, but rather a transition to another form. So when we grieve I suppose we're mostly grieving for ourselves – not the one we've said goodbye to.
All the same, I wish things were different. I wish we still had these friends with us, shining their light on our days.
And I am reminded to be grateful each day for Jasper and Olive, for Spike, for our chickens, for family.
We did our best with what we knew, and still we lost these friends. Sometimes it happens that way. As we look ahead to farming now I realize that we'll need to be ready for untimely goodbyes now and again.
Becasue that's nature. Life leads to death. And not always when you expect it.
We love you Moonstone, Smudge, and Mortimer. And we miss you so.