Sheila lost the use of her back legs three days ago. I tried and tried to get her to stand but she could not.
All through the night we talked about things, out there in the straw, as Poppy slept on. Sheila was sitting most of the time, all through that last night. Huge in the night. Shone by a little moon. Four times my size and gentle. I gave her drinks and hand fed her treats as we talked about old times – about bad pigs and good fields and how she would sit on command and wait to eat and walk down the creek with me and bring me her bowl for food then pick it up and run off with the filled bowl to eat it over there. And how she adopted Poppy when Poppy was tiny but never wanted piglets of her own. She was a pig apart. My special girl. Ni night she said again and again. The only word she ever learned – ni night I said back to her.
In the morning I brought the vet out for her. Amazingly while I was in calling him and getting dressed, she dragged herself all the way out of the barn and into her garden. I don’t know how. All I saw were the drag marks.
Then she turned her large body around to face the gate where I would come through and lay down.
I sat with her, she and I, for a long time again- waiting. Her voice had changed – it was urgent and low- after a while she was jawing at the pain, and she lowered her head to me.
Both the vets came out. The senior who has vetted me through all my farming (though it was his day off) and his young vet who pulled Del’s dead calf. Do you remember her?
By then I had no words / all I was saying to her was shh shh – shh, shh shh – as though to hush her to sleep. To not see them coming. My throat was closed around the awfulness of losing my companion of almost nine years. At the end my elder vet’s jaw was working, the younger vet was in tears , and I just stood and howled. My head down and my arms straight at my sides. I just sobbed.
The vets said things I don’t remember and left us with her huge dead warm body. John brought the tractor round, his hat low over glistening eyes and began to dig her grave.
I sat again with her – but in the end I let her go.
I miss her more than is reasonable. And I keep thinking I will tell her because I think she would get it. CShh shh I say to myself every time I begin to cry again. Hush, now. Ssh ssh.
Cécilia
The Kitchen's Garden 
94 responses to “Too Hard To Say”
Words are stuck. I can’t get any out. I wish I could hug you. And thank you for preparing us last week. God bless your vets.
I am so sorry, Celia. We all feel the loss, but I can’t imagine the depths of your feelings. I had just copied a FB post from Common Sense Home. I wasn’t sure why. It seems appropriate here.
Midwives of the Soul
April 25 ·
My grandmother once gave me a tip:
In difficult times, you move forward in small steps.
Do what you have to do, but little by little.
Don’t think about the future, or what may happen tomorrow.
Wash the dishes.
Remove the dust.
Write a letter.
Make a soup.
You see?
You are advancing step by step.
Take a step and stop.
Rest a little.
Praise yourself.
Take another step.
Then another.
You won’t notice, but your steps will grow more and more.
And the time will come when you can think about the future without crying.
– Elena Mikhalkova
So, so sorry to hear this Celi. Sheila will always be with you in your heart and memories. Sending love.
So sorry Celi and John:( No words for the sadness I feel.
I am crying for you and your dear Sheila, may she rest in peace and happiness enjoying heavenly fields and gardens. I am so very sorry.
I read your words as they come. I’ve read this post through many times. Weeping for you and sending solace from afar.
She was loved. Thank you for sharing her with us all these years. Seems like these hard things are even harder during this time. Take care.
SO sorry for your loss. Hugs
May her memory be for a blessing. Hugs from suburban Pennsylvania.
Oh, this heartbreaking loss. You loved and cared for Sheila so perfectly; I am grateful to have had a window in on your life together, through your posts over the years. Sending you love and comfort. Kristen
I remember when you got your special girl and how you bonded to each other … I, along with everyone else, cried over the loss of this big girl! She had the best life any pig could ever hope for!
My heart goes out to you, Cecilia. She was a special girl and you two had a special relationship. She did have the best life with you. For that you can be grateful. That and all the wonderful memories. Shh shh, C…
Thank you for sharing. I love your relationship with Sheila. ❤️❤️❤️
Oh, Cecilia! This is truly the saddest day. I hope it is of some consolation to you to know that Sheila knew she had you all to herself this last sad night and day. She made such an extraordinary effort to let you know how she felt about you. No pig, no creature, had a sweeter, more enriched life than Sheila thanks to you. And what a testimony to your extraordinary care that both veterinarians came to be with you and Sheila. Thank you for sharing Sheila’s unique personality, her wild antics, and her gentlest of passing.
I have read every single message to you above and hope you take comfort from so much love for you.
Yes
My condolences on sweet Sheila’s passing. You gave her the most wonderful life. I will miss hearing about Sheila the marvelous and grand. Words are so inadequate. I’ve had to do the same for my dogs, it’s never easy even when you know they’re suffering and the choice is obvious. My boys each took a piece of my heart with them and I know Sheila did with you. Be gentle with yourself and grieve, it’s the only way to get through the loss. You’re a strong woman, Celi, and I know you’ll reach a point it isn’t so painful. Blessings to you and John.