Beginning the Year with Loss

2024 was a year of turmoil for me. It was full of many downs, and a couple of ups. It was a year of shedding my former self and the life I had envisioned. And it was a year of intense grief and letting go. The dark night of my soul.

By October, I felt like the shadow of grief was lifting its veil. I had come to the final stage of acceptance in my grief process. I learned the lessons of letting go, sadness, gratitude, the healing power of nature, slowing down, listening to inner wisdom, empathy towards those who suffer, endings, beginnings, and the meaning of loss. But in October I lost a dear friend in a car accident. This painful lesson taught me the value of not taking life for granted. As a former hospice nurse, death is always in my awareness, but an unexpected loss of a friend brought it even closer to me than normal. In losing my friend, I learned the importance of returning calls and texts, and letting loved ones know you love them just as they are.

Over Christmas, I learned the lesson of presence; to stay in the present and enjoy each moment with my grandparents who are in their 90’s. I felt joy and happiness this holiday season and also sadness as it was the first year without my son who was not able to come home.

As 2025 approached I felt excited and was looking forward to the new beginning a new year brings. I had journaled my intentions, goals, and hopes for 2025. I felt like there was joyful music playing in the background of my life.

But then the record player came to a sudden stop. My spouse called on the night of my birthday (12/30) to let me know a bobcat got into our chicken coop and killed 6 of our 7 chickens. I felt the pull of my old patterns wanting to suck me back into the darkness. I’m a sensitive person so chickens aren’t merely animals on a farm for me. I had names for them and had spent a lot of time with these birds learning their individual personalities. I am not unfamiliar with losing birds, but I had never lost them on such a grand scale and unexpectedly. I also felt awful for the lone survivor as she had lost all her sisters. I wanted to retreat back into the darkness; I felt the familiar pull of the darkness calling me back in. Luring me with the sweet promise of despair, darkness, and self-pity. And I did for a brief moment step into it. My grief is an old friend at times, it is familiar, and comfortable.

I knew I couldn’t stay the dark place this time, but I knew I needed to feel the heaviness of the loss and allow it flow through. My sadness wasn’t just about losing the birds, it was about all the loss of the last year. Grief is not linear. It’s like a spiral you go in and out of. And I was traveling back inside of it. But this time with tender awareness.

This wasn’t how I envisioned ending the year, and I did not want to begin 2025 like this. But my reality is that 2025 began with sadness and a heavy heart. I had a lot of time for reflection on my 21-hour drive back home. A lot of the teachings of the past year are helping me to continue moving forward in love and gratitude. I can’t speak of this in the past tense yet, because I’m still in it, but I do find some meaning in all of this, and I’m hopeful it may help someone else find meaning when life just doesn’t go the way you intend.

I feel so much sadness for our lone survivor, Leslie but she is teaching me about moving on. Leslie is letting me know that although life can really throw some curve balls our way, we must do all we can to keep going. Yesterday, I sat with Leslie for hours so she could spend some time outside and not be alone. She scratched and pecked and even dust bathed showing me she’s okay even if a bit wary. She’s not wallowing in the past, so neither should I. She will get new sisters tomorrow and I’m hopeful she will live a happy full chicken life with new friends. She is also teaching me about resilience. I could use this as an excuse to go back into the darkness. I could give up on the intentions I had set for 2025. But I won’t, because Leslie has showed me that we move on after loss. We keep scratching at the ground to find the treasures that are still there despite the loss.

This experience has also taught me further about letting go. Once again, I felt alone in my grief. I’m a sensitive empath; loss hits me hard, I don’t care if it was ‘just chickens’, I loved those birds. Again, I had no one to talk to that could help me through this except myself. By now I’m familiar with being on my own in my grief, so I tapped into my inner wisdom. I asked her to tell me what to do about the loss I was feeling, not just the birds, but this heavier loss of feeling alone in my experience. And like she ALWAYS does, she answered me. She said, “Let it be.” Thank you, that was just what I needed to hear. She always knows exactly what to say.

Let it be. That’s my mantra for 2025. Whatever comes my way this year, I will let it be.