Still feeling rather numb

Most times I can sit down at my computer and have no problem writing you a story about life here north of Emo or the current events of the Emo Agricultural Research Station.
But I’m still struggling with what I should be doing, saying, or writing. With the sudden loss of “Nanny” on Christmas Day, I’m still feeling rather “numb” to it all.
Although we’re all thankful that she’s not lying in some hospital bed suffering, it is natural for us all to wish for just one more quick visit—or, as she would say as you were leaving, “drop around anytime.”
At 87 years old, she (or we) should not complain as she lived a darn good life and is one of the few people perhaps who loved her chosen career each and every day.
Though there were many tough days, she still returned the next day hoping and expecting to make it better. That’s exactly what agriculture teaches you!
I cannot help but think what I would be doing today if it wasn’t for “Nanny.” Long before I was old enough to realize that her passion about farming was instilled into me, it already had happened.
As I hear about many young people growing up unsure of what the want to do with their life, I never once thought of any other career that I wanted to be in.
Leaving the farm to go to kindergarten was a big deal to me even then—but they found ways to engage me by keeping a calving chart in the classroom, etc. And some of my friends would tell me of not enjoying being a “farming teenage” because they felt they were teased at school.
I didn’t have that issue, and I think it is because of the pride I had in “Nanny” and all that she taught me about working hard and believing in yourself. I was taught long before “women’s rights” that it doesn’t matter what your gender is—if you want something and you’re willing to work hard, it will happen.
I also was taught there is no greater unconditional love than that of a dog.
“Nanny” often would tell me “you can talk to anyone.” Little did she realize that also was something that she taught me—she loved all her visits, whether at her kitchen table, a cattle sale, the Emo Fair, the grocery store, or on some old back road.
Her young mind and heart allowed her to have friends of all ages. And though many people enjoyed how she told it like it was, that trait wasn’t always the easiest one to be around.
As I’ve heard from people near and far sending condolences on the loss of our legend, it makes me realize just how much influence she has had on my life. I’ve heard continually of how “Nanny” always was a part of the conversation whether at a meeting, a presentation, a funny story, or even a nasty fight.
I know that in time the numbness will leave. But lucky for me, the strong-willed, determined women in agriculture will be a part of me forever.

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