Rusty Bucket Farm

[fuzzi]

 

[CoopBoots]

Gubbles is getting close to some hens...

 

[Mother of Chaos]

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Spoiler: Trigger Warning: Suicide Grief

Not to die
But to live without pain
To rest
Not to cease to be
Seeking relief
Not to cause harm
To escape a broken heart
Not create them in others
Someone who hurt only themselves
They believed
Someone who felt disconnected
By disease and untruth
Someone who could not discern reality
Any longer
Who longed for happiness at last
Or at least, peace
Who was already either experiencing hell
And so not afraid of things worsening
Or ready to welcome non-existence in the face of their extreme pain
Or hoping for something better
That death surely must be more merciful than life
Someone so desperate that fear and uncertainty could only delay
That thoughts of the pain of others
Could not sway
To be so alone in such pain
Assuming everyone else is stronger, has support
That everyone else will be able to forgive
Will still thrive
Because no one else has or will know such pain
They will be okay

Pain that is not transformed is transmitted at last
The weaker has fallen under its weight
Now the burden is mine
But gladly do I welcome this pain
Every drop
What has murdered my father will not kill me
I can be strong for both of us
I will be what he hoped for
I will defeat this monster
I will live for both of us
For my husband
For my children
For my mother
For my sister
For my nieces and nephews
For my uncle
The pain will be transformed
God is my support

A new life begins. I will carry this weight.

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My Dad took this photo of my baby, Big Jake, with his old Nikon camera. (Big Jake is a John Wayne movie--our roosters were all named for different John Wayne roles. Thanks, Dad )That is a real flower and I'm just out of frame, after coaching Jake to sit still there and not shake it off for two seconds. Dad was really proud of this photo and still had a copy of it on his fridge. I was 11 or 12 when that first batch of 20-some odd Buff Orpington chicks showed up in a box one spring. I fell in love with one of them. Dad couldn't believe I could identify ONE puffy yellow chicken out of the batch just by his adorable face, so he marked Jake's bottom foot pad and tested me. Sure enough, I had spent SO many hours bent over that wooden brooder box cuddling him in my cupped hands that it wasn't any trouble for me. Dad was flabbergasted, haha. I eventually developed a rash from leaning against that pine wood so much... There wasn't anything I would rather have been doing back then!

When Jake's inevitably grew up to be an obvious boy, he also developed a hatred of men and a desire to mate the shoes of all the ladies in the family He also jumped out of his fence to attack door-to-door salesmen... Even though he was also awful to my Dad, Dad found this so funny that I think he forgave the aggression. Luckily, no one actually got hurt!! But that rooster could put large caliber holes in plastic laundry detergent containers and constantly had to be fended off if my Dad wanted to do anything in the chicken yard.

They almost butchered Big Jake once. But my parents couldn't do it and tried to get my grandpa too--he refused to kill my pet, and that was that.

Jake loved to chase me around, especially if I got a running start and hid out of sight. I also loved to make him sit on our porch-style swing with me as I enjoyed the summer afternoons outside. He also loved snuggling into my shirts, and even as a grown bird he'd let me cuddle him like a mama hen.

He passed away when I was in college. Parents could not bear to tell me over the phone, so waited until I came home on, I think, a fall break. It was devastating. I'm not entirely sure where he was buried. Dad knew, but I can't ask him now. I remember sitting on that same porch-style swing and crying my eyes out privately.

I think I loved Rusty so much because he reminded me of Jake and I only got Rusty because of my Dad. Dad found him on Facebook Marketplace--and free PET rooster in need of rehoming... And the rest is history.

Dad knew how happy the chickens made me. And the butterflies. And so he did his best to be involved in my hobbies. Planting the right host plants for butterflies in our area, helping me obtain chickens and maintain my crops, transplanting my favorite trees.

Spoiler: TW: Suicide

He left me a seeds container for Spring, 2026, all labeled. With an I love you written on it. It has Dogwood seeds in it; I'd been trying unsuccessfully to grow some last spring.

The signs were there, but I just couldn't believe he'd do anything permanent. If I could have truly believed it, knowing what I know now, I WOULD have confronted him. I'll always regret not doing so, but I have to forgive myself. The fact that I didn't is proof enough I could not believe he'd hurt himself for real. But I knew he'd thought about it before. God, Dad, please forgive me.

He didn't leave me any other kind of note.

I'm grateful for so much and I'm trying to plan a little for spring. I have so much coop work to do and I STILL want to get some blue-egg layers.. I'm not gonna give up on that project. Probably I'll need to order some and introduce them... ugh... but I can't find blue eggs for my broodies locally. I wonder if it is too late for a spring order from TSC??

I'm so, so sorry. That's such a hard way to lose a loved one.