As we wind-up our time here at ye’ olde homestead we find ourselves romanticizing the work we have done here — as if every moment is a longing, a memory, and a letting go. Grieving is a hard process, done over time, with care-fullness. Since we’ve decided to leave this home, it has been a hard way to grieve — we haven’t left yet (or packed!). We’re still ‘in it’, for whatever that is worth, even though we are edging closer every day.
We are also grieving a family loss, (R’s) mom passed away just a couple of weeks ago and it has thrown off all of our systems, even the not-so-together ones. And that process of grief is also bereft with bureaucracy and false complications — we thought we had all our ducks in a row but it turns out our ducks were crazy and now we need some geese and perhaps some chickens, as well, to round out the bird barnyard frenzy of dissolving a life. When is there time to grieve? Or make space for the processes of care? Everything is unfinished/half-finished/hard to finish.
For a moment, we thought we had a handle on it, and so these pictures reflect the moments we thought we were ok (we were…we are…we’re ok, not great but getting by, together and with your help, thank you)…and hopefully there will be more of these moments but right now they are loose pearls rolling around in an empty pool. We’ll figure it out, but until then, we’ll just gather these pearls as best we can.
Happy Mid-Winter, may you be safe and loved.
Rock Bottom Homestead 