Carol sung Destiny’s name as we walked up to the gate. Destiny who was laying down, got right up, looked at Carol and stuck her head though the gate. Carol cooed at Destiny, rubbing her chin and scratching her head.
“They just dehorned her” Carol said, running the palms of her hands over the nubs where her horns used to be” but see, it doesn’t hurt.”
Carol put her face to Destiny’s and they nuzzled each other. The affection between them was palpable.
Destiny and another baby cow, Larry, had just come back to Bejosh Farm a few days before. When Ed was diagnosed with cancer, they sent all the calves to live at their sons farm. But Carol missed them.
Destiny had a difficult time when she was first born. Carol and Ed nursed her to health. She’s still smaller than other calves her age, but she’s strong and growing and has a special place in Carols heart.
Carol was happy, but not surprised, when Destiny recognized her after being away from the farm for so long.
Since we found out about Ed’s cancer, I’ve been thinking about Carol and what I can do for her. She’s not someone who accepts help easily and I wanted to be careful not to intrude. She’s also surrounded by her family who are helpful and loving.
But ever since Jon’s Open Heart Surgery, I know what’s it’s like to be a caretaker.
Of course, the big difference is that when I was taking care of Jon after his surgery, I knew he was going to get better. The same is not true for Carol and Ed.
When we visited Ed over the weekend, I followed Carol outside while Jon and Ed made a video and it was then I came to see what I could do. How I could help.
It wasn’t something I could have planned. It’s just what happened.
A few steps out the door, I took the laundry basket that Carol was carrying from her and placed it on the ground. Then we held each other and cried. After a while, we hung sheets on the clothesline together. Then went to visit Destiny.
We spent maybe twenty minutes together, but it felt to me like we were in our own little bubble for those moments. And they seemed precious, as if they somehow condensed all the pains and joys of life.
I also saw, in that twenty minutes, that this was what I could do for Carol.
I could be there for her as a friend. Whatever that means at the moment. Listening, talking, bringing strawberries, hugging, and knowing when it’s time to leave.
6 thoughts on “Being A Friend”
A kind and loving presence. It seems like a little thing but you are just what Carol needed and coming to know that in that moment is a very big thing. You are so intuitive Maria. When I was doing hospice work, one of the hardest things to learn was just to be. Be still, be a comfort, be helpful. You are all of those things. Bless you.
Being still always seems hard doesn’t it Terri. But so important especially at those difficult times in life.
That is true friendship. Priceless and perfect.
Maria – What an exquisite definition of “being a friend”. Being present with and for each other, in the moment. Doing, when there’s something to be done. And, then—“knowing when it’s time to leave”.
That is beautiful and touching
“I could be there for her as a friend. Whatever that means at the moment.”
Maria, so perfectly said and so perfect to be incorporated in an artwork