Springtime is synonymous with life. The rebirth of the vibrant living world, green and growing, and the warmth of the sun once again. On any farm this includes births, and sometimes the deaths, of baby animals.
I struggle with this a lot. I love our animals dearly and each birth brings celebration, each death brings its own tiny heartbreak. In the past 2 weeks we have lost two baby goats (one to prematurity, one to a predator) and a duckling. One of our barn cats delivered premature kittens this morning. One has already passed and the other will soon follow.
I’ve really beaten myself up over our past losses. I take it all so personally and mentally dissect each circumstance to find fault in myself for its outcome, even when I know deep down that there’s nothing I could’ve done differently. I just can’t do this anymore; it tears me apart every time. Accepting death as an eventuality on our farm hasn’t been easy but it’s been so, so necessary.
Death is life’s blameless companion, traveling the same roads hand in hand. Miracles and tragedies are spun of the same cloth and can share the same spaces simultaneously. There is love in both, there is hope in both. A perfect circle that holds all living things in its center. You can’t fully embrace one without accepting the inevitability of the other.
Every living thing on this planet stands on a precipice with its toes at the edge. Eventually we’ll all lose our grip; some sooner than later. Tragedies and miracles, depth and width, melody and harmony. We can’t ever step back from the edge of the cliff, but while we stand there we can still choose to dance.