How Grief Evolves

Happy Saturday friends!

I'm wondering if you guys can track your own grief like this too? Has grief changed for you as you grow older?

I can remember back to 2002 when my very first Border Collie passed away. I was a wreck. I had never experienced euthanasia before. She went peacefully and it wasn't long after that I saw her running in a huge green field with my grandmother, safe and sound. But I was just despondent for a good week at least and would burst into tears for the longest time. And what I didn't know back then was how sometimes the crossing of a loved one (2 or 4 legged) brings up the grief of those who crossed before them—in that case, my grandmother.

My second Border Collie crossed suddenly and on a surgical table, and I wasn't able to be with him. Ugh. That was it's own trauma.

Years and years went by with healthy, slowly aging animals.

Then we moved to the farm.

Boy did that quickly change my perspective on death. I would never have guessed.

The first time it was different was when we had a sheep taken down by a coyote in broad daylight. Eight year old ManChild and I were doing chores and he was bringing in the sheep from the pasture for the evening. I was several pastures down but could see both him and four sheep...where was the fifth? I yelled up to him to find the other one. He walked back into the pasture and then came back to the flock at the gate and yelled back to me, "It's dead!"

"What?" Thinking, no, I did NOT just hear that.

"It's DEAD!"

"Are you sure?"

He yelled back, zero panic, "Well it's eyes are open and it's intestines are out!"

Somehow this has become a joke among all of us in our family. Dark, dark humor 😳😂

From that point on the circle of life:

took on a whole new meaning. Since he was just eight years old, we had conversations about what might have happened, the time of year, how a mama coyote might have been trying to feed her babies. How it was sad for us, scary for her and her sheep friends for sure but happy for that coyote who had to hunt for its own food. 

Needless to say we started looking for coyote control because yes, sure, the circle of life and all that, but go find a bunny dammit, not my sheep!

Then came my first season of baby goats. I was not raised on a farm, this was my first go around, in this life anyway. But as a kid in elementary school I read all the James Harriot books and always found them fascinating, never gross. So when my first baby goats were born, I was excitedly ready and waiting: kneeling in the bloody straw, sleeves rolled up, placenta on my hands as I was wiping off the two babies, sucking out their noses with an infant nose sucker and giving them to their mom to lick. I was in my element.

My second doe was a first time mom and she had quads in super fast succession. Mom was on the phone with me because I was by myself so she got to experience it through me. (She would have loved it.) Babies one and two came out just fine, no issues. Then baby three was born into my hands and in a blink baby four was coming out. I was holding baby three, much too tiny, not moving. There was all this movement and noise around me, the mama goat Maple Kiss yelling as she was pushing out baby four, babies one and two starting to call to their mother and trying to stand, Mom on the phone, and time slowed for just a moment as I held the tiny lifeless body of baby three...

...do I do chest compressions and breaths... 

And then there was baby four being born, wiggling but weakly, breathing but barely...

And I made this bizarre and incredible decision to place baby three behind me and work on baby four. I see this as such a big turning point for me.

(After that experience, Brad was always at all births for a second set of hands and we did indeed have to do chest compressions and breaths quite a few times through the years.)

A year later our mini donkey Light, Sweetness's best friend, colicked (colic is stomach pain, but since horses can't throw up, it has to be pooped out and sometimes intestines do weird things and twist and die off) and being higher up in the intestines it was a bigger issue than some, the vet said we could take him into the vet school and they could do exploratory surgery that usually cost somewhere around $30,000 with no guarantees. 

We were learning the hard way, every single day, that life on a farm was full of fun and possibilities and births and bouncing baby goats

and

full of decisions you never knew people had to make. 

Light was in heaven by late afternoon that day. We had so many tears but the animals still had to be fed and cleaned up after, so we continued working on the evening chores through the tears. What else can you do?

We continued on that way for five years: me elbow deep in a sheep trying to visualize which head belonged to which set of legs and helping to birth twins, beloved dogs crossing over the rainbow bridge, or a mama sheep who accidentally rolled over on one of her lambs overnight and squashed it, baby goats being born into my hands while a friend's wide eyed little girl looked on. And around and around and around. 

This is life on a farm.

In 2021, just before we moved to North Carolina, we found out that Duke, Tessa's livestock guardian brother, had bladder cancer (same as Mom, how weird) we knew our time with him was limited. I've said this before that Duke was the one that took off for the property lines when they heard something, while Tessa was the one who gathered the sheep and brought them to the safety of the barn.

This is Duke in the lead and Tessa behind him out patrolling one of our pastures in Colorado. They always went out first to check out the area before the sheep were allowed to wander too much. The sheep knew to wait :-)

On the other side of that fence there was a coyote den:

While they could both be scary to predators, Duke seemed more fierce all around. Strangers were not allowed to pet him unless one of us was in with them. He bit several people who didn't listen when we told them to not put their hands over the fence. It was so hard not to, they looked like huge, white, wagging Golden Retrievers. But he was a protector.

He was also this:

We made the reluctant decision to let him go and it was extra hard because he wasn't ready. He was only 7 years old and he had a lot more life to live and he didn't want to leave us without his protection—but the vet had said his bladder would eventually rupture and that would be an extra painful way to die. So we made the appointment and our vet came out. She gave him the sleepy shot and he got a bit sleepy but not so much that we thought it was time, so we waited. He watched the farm. Tessa was nearby. We told him it was safe for him to go. We would all protect each other. He finally put his head down and closed his eyes. We gave the go-ahead for the second shot that would stop his heart and the vet gave it...

we waited...

and waited...

And then someone came through the gate and like freaking Lazarus, Duke stood up and let out his big boy bark, "WOOF!"

Brad, the vet, and I all sat there with him with our mouths agape. What in the world? We couldn't help but laugh and cry. My vet had never experienced anything like that and of course neither had we.

And that's a livestock guardian dog for you. Loyal and protective to the very end. Duke did eventually peacefully pass but he left us with that image embedded in our souls. That feeling of complete independence, "I will do this MY way thank you very much."

So when our sweet Tessa made the decision to leave on her own terms before our vet could get to us, I could see that same independent spirit shining. 

May we all have that same opportunity to cross in the way we want to.

And alllllll those stories to say one simple thing: the way I grieve is much different than it used to be. I cry when I need to and laugh when I want to. I tell funny stories about her and no longer feel guilty by the joy. I felt her pacing next to me off and on all week and miss her terribly.

The farm continues on so we learn to continue on. 

THE RANCH:

I didn't get to post these pics yet, they were taken just a week before she crossed. I went out front and saw Tessa sitting like this, staring. I could practically hear Winnie the Pooh's voice, "Oh bother."

She had gotten into a trash bag someone had left in the garage and found this milk carton, chewed a hole into it, and I guess stuck her nose in their to lick it out. And then it got stuck on her face. I asked her to come to me so I could take it off:

But seriously, I'm never going to forget the way she looked 😂

My friend Katie sent me a few pictures of Tessa from when we were on the Colorado ranch:

Katie made a video about Tessa called What A Fierce Dog Taught Me About Fear.

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Brad has been outside working on the goat pen this week now that Tessa is gone and the goats don't have overnight protection. While he was working, the goats were able to be loose, as you can see, they don't go very far ;-)

The new pen is six feet tall. This is so they can still be outside at night should they want to be and then during the day we open that up to their pasture. We will be adding some dug in concrete blocks under the fence for extra protection. Until then, we allow the horses and mini donkeys into the goat pasture at night to keep the goats safe. Coyotes won't mess with donkeys!

And because life just doesn't stop on a farm, we had a scare this week with Sweetness. Gawd.

On Tuesday afternoon ManChild and I went out to do chores and as he walked into the gate he suddenly looked up and said, "Where's Tessa?" without thinking. Ugh. We both got a little teary. Then Sweetness walked up to us, plopped himself down between us and put his head on ManChild's shoe. We both looked at each other...huh. He jerked his body/head, just like Tessa at the end. Having been a coach who partners with my horses for a long time now, I have experienced many instances where they play out parts of our lives, often paint points. It gives humans a chance to look at those moments in another way, and gives an opportunity for another layer of healing. So I thought that's what he was offering us. (I still do think this was a part of it actually.)

Then he got up. Back down. Back up. Back down. Oh no...no, no, no. Then came the rolling and stretching his legs out straight and groaning. 

Google: Colic in horses is a general term for abdominal pain, primarily stemming from gastrointestinal issues due to their sensitive, highly mobile digestive system. Key symptoms include pawing, rolling, sweating, flank watching, and decreased appetite. While many cases are mild and resolve with medical treatment, severe cases can be fatal without prompt intervention, making immediate veterinary attention crucial. 

I called the vet, took his temp (normal) and gave him banamine (pain killer), and got his halter and lead on to keep him from rolling. The vet said all the warm/cold fluctuations of weather can do this, it's been so long that I had totally forgotten that possibility. Within 20 minutes Sweetness was up and looking much better. He decided to hoof it around the upper pasture twice, just to make sure we all knew he was feeling better. Everyone followed us for moral support. Best friend the Duchess of Cashmere never left his side:

And Jaffee just worked on making me laugh:

The vet never had to come. I put Sweetness in the coaching barn in the lower pasture (everyone else was down there just not in with him) with water but no food to give his belly a chance to rest. By midnight he had pooped four times, yay, things were obviously moving, so I let him out and he's been fine since. For the energetic piece though, ManChild and I talked about our grief around Tessa and it gave us a chance to work through a bit of it.

•••

I found a way for Tori to be outside with me while I weed (this was a couple weeks ago when it was warmer):

Loooong line clipped to her halter. She hardly moved, just happily munched on grass in the front yard. I tried it with Jaffee too, he wandered more but did okay with it as well:

My relationship with Tori is slowly blooming with the clicker training. She offered to take the hay bags for me the other day, putting her body in the way of them repeatedly until I realized what she was offering, and put them on her back:

Just like when Sweetness does it, she was so proud!

Unlike Blu, who is still sharky with treats, Tori is gentle and often asks like this:

"Treats?"

"Treats?"

"Treats? Oh yeah, the Shark says he'd like some too."

"Treats please?"

😂

HOW TO WORK WITH ME:

Equine Partnered Coaching! With horses, without horses, in-person, or online, your choice. 

Neurofeedback Train your brain to calm and ease. The most common response I hear about neurofeedback is, "I'm so much less reactive!" It really does smooth out the sharp spikes. Super helpful if the world feels harsh and spiky to you too right now. 

Reiki Another way to facilitate relaxation, calm, healing. In the summer an option is outside in the herd. This time of year, it's always in my office where it's warm :-) 

And of course Women's Circles! The Wednesday circle has a waiting list, I will add you to it if you'd like.

Monday night online art group anyone? Playing with watercolors with other kind women AND in your jammies? Yes please! The next one starts Monday, March 16th and runs 4 weeks. You can learn all about it and sign up here! We will be painting two of my harvest mice watercolors (there is a drop in option if you'd like to just paint one):

My monthly freebie art watercolor classes are coming up online! These are for all abilities, even if you think you have NO ability. There is a line drawing to trace and then we saturate our paper with water and play with dropping in colors we like and watching how they dance together. We finish it up with some splatter, a little black outline, and of course, EYELASHES!

Saturday, March 14, 2026 4:30-6pm ET, spring baby goat watercolor
Saturday, April 11, 10—11:30am ET, spring foal watercolor
You can sign up here!

THE MEMES:

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This is an AI-free newsletter! While I love to use AI to help me figure out a piece of software I don't understand, my intention is to use it to help me with the drudgery, never with writing, art, creation. All em dashes are intentional and mine, I was using them way before ChatGPT was a twinkle in Sam Altman's eye :-)

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Thank you for reading :-)

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