I need to tell you

That our poor old Tane died earlier this week. I am so sad for us and so glad/sad for his release.

He was a good old fellow- I know that in the larger scheme of things and especially at the time of global stress and anxiety and illness, and death, losing a pet pig is small. But there you are.

Tane died in his sleep – deep in his straw bed with Tima his warm fat wife cuddled in beside him.

Tima is still lost without him – she lies outside their home looking inside during the day. The last few nights she has taken to sleeping in the same room as WaiWai, though he is not the cuddling sort. I go in and cover them both up at night. They both say thank you.

I am what my Mum used to call crying tired.

Not enough help at the mill and everyone so grateful for flour. And losing my kunekune boar who had a bad hip and the sweetest disposition.

Talk soon

Celi

75 responses to “I need to tell you”

  1. I am so sad and sorry for you and for Tima. As some others have said perhaps she and WaiWai in time will become close. Even though he’s not the cuddly type, maybe Tima will wear him down the way some women are sometimes able to do. WaiWai could use a little cuddling himself, if only he would/could accept it. Tucking
    them in at night —and hearing their thank-yous must be so bittersweet.
    Crying tired is is — I don’t know what to say.
    Except, Cecilia, you must take care of yourself. You must. Please.

  2. Awww. Cecilia, please don’t downplay your grief – definitely take the time to sit in it if you need to. That must be so rough on you and I’m sorry it came at such a difficult time. There’s a lot to be done, but you don’t get better from crying tired without that good cry and a long nap, right?
    I think a lot of us are crying tired right now. Please let yourself cry and rest whenever you can wherever and whoever you are that’s reading this.

  3. I’m so sorry for the loss of Tane…so sad. I know you all are grieving and Tima must especially be grieving. And that grief is made even harder by grieving the loss of a “normal” life right now. I hope you find peace and comfort in the fact that you gave Tane such a wonderful and joyful life and place to live, and that his passing was wrapped up in that comfort. Hang in there and take care of you while you are taking care of everyone else and your animals. ❤

  4. I joined the Fellowship after having stumbled onto “THE ILL WIND THAT BLEW NO GOOD” post back when you first wrote it. I often refer people experiencing grief to it. I’m sorry your newest loss, Miss C, particularly when your days don’t leave much time for adequate bereavement. You have my condolences.

  5. Dear Cecelia
    Ditto what everyone else has said here…I am so sorry about your dear Tane! I remember when you got he and Tima! And I think it’s so endearing that you call her his warm fat wife. How good that he could go snuggled up next to her. I hope she is doing ok and you too! It doesn’t ever get any easier does it?
    Take care of yourself and those around you…
    Thinking of you…Chris

  6. I am so sorry for your loss, Celi. John and I were glad to have met the cutie-pie. Sending virtual hugs and kisses your way. Hope you are well and safe. XOXO

  7. I am just now catching up on some reading. You know Tane was my favorite. If for some reason you couldn’t keep him, I would have borrowed a trailer and driven all of the way up there to fetch him. I loved him THAT much! I know the last couple of years were hard on him, lame as he was. Any time you posted a photo of him I was so happy. I will miss those sweet tusks. He was a hero to me…

    I lost my Mr. T on March 1st. I’ve been horribly lost without that lug bug around. Oscar and Lollipop are still missing their big brother. Poor Tima. Perhaps with winter almost behind us she will perk up a bit. I’ll be sending positive vibes to both of you.

  8. I’m so sorry to hear about Tane. I remember when he first came. I held a little one moment memorial of his life on the farmy. I’m so glad to have known of it. It’s amazing how much “little” things that have nothing to do with the virus hit harder than they would normally. All the time in the world for those all locked up, yet no time to mourn.

    On a brighter subject, I for one, am baking a lot more. I’m still working at my hospital job, but the nights off somehow seem longer, so I’m baking with sourdough again. Something about the pandemic is reminding me that I don’t want to lose that skill. I haven’t tried your mill yet, but if I run out of my own supply, I’m planning to.

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