Sometimes it's important to get outside here at Struan Farm and go for a walk to appreciate life and the beauty that surrounds us.
Maybe even take some apple treats to a pet ewe or two, and talk to the sheep about their incubating lambs.
This week I came across a blog post on (where else but) FB, by a writer named Sean Dietrich, responding to a thirteen year old who contacted him about writing. This teenager wanted to write but didn't think he was "good enough." Sean's response resonated with me on many levels, read it in full here. Basically he confessed that he didn't have anything brilliant to write about at all, rather he writes about simple things. I like to think that's what I do with the Struan Farm blog. I write about our life here at the farm, the ups, the downs, the projects, the tomatoes. He also said that "sometimes you write so you can find your way through sadness," and this would be one of those times for me. There is an element of healing in the process of reaching out to talk about something for some people, including me.
My sister Beth passed away this past week following a 25+ year battle with bipolar disorder. I've been thinking a lot these past few days about life and family as a result, trying to make sense of her death. As the eldest child I was the communicator in our family from an early age. I wanted, needed to understand and be understood. As most people will know, understanding isn't always possible. It can be challenging or annoying to others who can't cope with that or don't want or need it. Sometimes people won't talk even if you try to force them, they shut down. Opening cans of worms, ripping scabs off old wounds, isn't always appreciated. Others don't always know what they're feeling themselves, so how can they explain it to you? Sometimes you may need to walk away for your own good, to try to understand things with some emotional distance.
I remember going to the photography studio and having the picture above taken with my sister. She wasn't cooperating with the shoot at all, so the photographer put the phone on the table, it rang, and she picked it up to talk to whomever was calling her. It was a masterful child wrangling technique if there ever was one, perhaps that's why I've remembered it.
I can't understand why Beth is gone, or begin to understand everything she suffered through. Her disorder eventually made her life impossible it seems. I do know she was loved, but maybe she lost sight of that. And while I can't speak for the rest of the extended family, having her rest in peace after a very long battle will have to be enough for me. I'll keep telling myself that until it sinks in.
Karen, I'm so sorry for you and your family. It's so hard to lose a loved one. I hope she is at peace now. Hugs from Oregon
Posted by: Kris FOUNDS | 05/27/2019 at 03:28 PM