Learning about Loss, Together

Last Sunday, our little degu friend, Reggae, woke up unable to move her legs. Reggae has been our pet for over 8 and a half years, a life span practically unheard of for a small rodent pet.

In the last week we were able to hold her, feed her by hand, love her, and ask ourselves many questions about how best to care for her. We were able to spend time with her in a way that I have never spent time with a small animal, and I am so grateful for it all.

My youngest had never been able to hold her for more than a few moments for fear of her scurrying away, but now has been able to hold her, love her, feed her, and admire her sweet nature.


Yesterday, also a Sunday, we spent time together as a family at my father in law's grave. For my youngest son, who shares a name with my father in law, it was a time of processing and understanding the basics of death.

For the rest of us, we processed the more complex subject matters of moving on, remembering, and loving beyond life.

We didn't all get to say goodbye to Granddad like we wanted to, and more than 3 years later it is still so very hard.

When my youngest son saw small gifts on another gravestone, he wanted to leave a small gift for his granddad, so he drew a picture, the gift small children know everyone appreciates. I know Vernon would have loved that. Sometimes doing something tangible helps us understand more than any amount of talking and explaining ever can.

A small child's act of giving can help the rest of us understand as well.

After a day of visiting the cemetery and hiking as a family in the woods of Kentucky, we came home to find our little degu friend gone from this life, and again we processed what it means to move beyond death and life, how to be thankful for the opportunities we have had to love, the chance to experience real compassion, and the pain of saying goodbye. Again, for my youngest, it was the basics he had to understand- the idea that Reggae just isn't here anymore. For my eleven year old, he had to understand something more. There is no doubt that this has been hardest on him, as he doesn't remember a day that little reggae wasn't there to play with, to be fed, to be cleaned up after, to be loved.

My eleven year old son wanted to dig the grave himself, he wanted to bury him alone, and he wanted to create a special resting place for his beloved pet. These tangible actions seemed to help him process all of his feelings better than any words I had to offer him last night.


Goodbye little Reggae, and thank you for the opportunity to love and care for you all of these years. I hope as you settle into your new earth, as Winter passes into Spring, and as your grave is overtaken by the fresh flowers of next year, you rest peacefully always.