Thursday, 3 January 2013
When I arrived home from my trip to England on Sunday, Mr A told me that Dursune was selling her cows. Her health is not so good, and her family have been trying to get her to slow down for some time now. She has been so reluctant to give up on her daily routine, but both Mr A and I have noticed that it's a struggle for her.
The cows left on Monday and I hadn't seen Dursune in three days. Mr A checked in on her yesterday, and she really didn't want to talk, other than to say that she felt that she would die if she didn't have her cows to look after.
She's getting older. We all are. In fact I don't think Dursune is much older than me, but she has had a harder life than I have and hasn't aged well. If I was 20 years younger and didn't have my own health problems, I would have encouraged her to keep the cows and I would help with them.
This morning I was up early. There was a stray dog outside the gate, scavenging for food. I came out to feed him but he ran away. Poor dogs are always so terrified of people until they realise you mean no harm. I walked down the lane looking for him with a bowl of food, but ended up leaving it on the ground in the hope that he would return.
I then saw Dursune walking towards me. She looked so sad and dejected that it broke my heart. She started to tell me about her cows and I told her I knew. The tears welled up in her eyes and I just wrapped my arms around her and we both cried. I asked her to come to the house for a coffee, but she just wanted to walk on her own.
There are no words of consolation for such sadness.