A new normal, and solo farming
My dear, sweet, wonderful, funny, loving, strong, tall, perfect for me husband passed away on Oct 24th from that F’king covid virus that has been unleashed upon the world.
It’s been an unbearable 11 months, first with him in the hospital, and now having him cross over to the other side.
I hate the fact that he was in the hospital and they would not let me be with him. I got one 4 hour period where I got to sit with him, and I suspect they did it only because they didn’t think he was going to make it thru that night. He did and made another 2 weeks before his heart gave out, and he was gone.
My soulmate, my best friend, my partner, my protector, the man I waited my life for, the best person to ever happen to me, my Robyn, is gone.
That’s my new normal, and I hate every minute of it.
There are not enough swear words in this world to describe how much I despise what has happened.
Not only did I lose the love of my life, and who I would give anything to have back here and never let him leave. I also lost an entire skill set, knowledge base, and life experience that I can never replicate.
Robyn was a mechanic, welder, fabricator, and could fix damn near anything. If something went sideways, I could always count on him to figure out how to make it work. I gave me great joy to watch him fix something as I stood by watching, ready to lend a hand should he need it. I am awestruck by his innate ability to deal with any problem that came to light.
This leaves me with mostly solo farming now. My son is here, and he’s a great help, however, he does work full time. So if something has to be done during the week that can’t wait, it’s up to me to do it.
Robyn and I were working here to simplify our process, and for the most part, we did. Chores are pretty minimal luckily. But the big heavy lifting still has to be done on occasion, such as moving huge bales of hay. This time of year, and for the next several months, it will be an ongoing chore to keep that hay out for the stock. Robyn was the tractor guy and I was the step’n’fetch on the ground.
This now means I have to drive the 1953 Farmall Super M tractor. Not such an easy feat for me. I’m glad that Robyn taught me how to drive that behemoth 12 years ago, but up until 11 months ago, I had not driven it since that time.
The learning curve has been quite steep for me considering I almost smashed my kid by dropping 3 big square bales over, and took out 2 corral panels and a fence line. Scared the living shit out of me and him. Luckily he is ok and I didn’t break him very much.
Doesn’t help much that the tractor is set up for Robyn’s very long legs, and now all the bolts are frozen in position so I can’t move the seat to accommodate my much shorter legs. Unfortunately, when this tractor breaks down, I am not so able to fix it being as I am not a mechanic. And right now, I’m having issues with the choke lever.
That means I have to depend on friends or neighbors to come to my aid. And if you know me, you know how much I don’t like having to interrupt someone else’s day and be dependent upon someone else to help. I am grateful for all the help I have gotten to date. There are good friends and neighbors here willing to help me.
That’s one of the things that made Robyn’s and I good working partners. He could do things I can’t and vice versa. We worked great together, and after 12 years, could read each others minds and signals. I want him back so badly. I want his hugs, kisses, cuddles, love, and selfishly, his skilled hands and mind which made life so much easier for us both.
A new normal and solo farming. This is not what Robyn and I envisioned when we created this rural life.
I want my old normal back.