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The Well-Oiled Machine

The author's family sprang into action to help pull a stuck sprayer out of the mud. While they worked together efficiently as a "well-oiled machine", the author felt grief for her lost children Darick and Melissa. She finds comfort knowing that though gone, Darick and Melissa still contribute to who the family is through their memories and essence being part of the family's roots. The author believes Darick and Melissa feel the family's enduring love for them.

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70 views2 pages

The Well-Oiled Machine

The author's family sprang into action to help pull a stuck sprayer out of the mud. While they worked together efficiently as a "well-oiled machine", the author felt grief for her lost children Darick and Melissa. She finds comfort knowing that though gone, Darick and Melissa still contribute to who the family is through their memories and essence being part of the family's roots. The author believes Darick and Melissa feel the family's enduring love for them.

Uploaded by

jo
Copyright
© © All Rights Reserved
We take content rights seriously. If you suspect this is your content, claim it here.
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The Well-Oiled Machine

JoAnne Rademacher, August 5, 2020

In loving memory…

Melissa Jo 12/30/1980 – 9/15/1994 and Darick Scott 12/14/1978 – 10-30-2012

My daughter-in-law, Amber, and grandkids Dustin and Brianna (Darick’s son and daughter),
joined me for grilled burgers tonight while son, Wade, and husband, Daryl, were in the field
spraying weeds and baling hay, respectively. We had a nice meal together, chatting away and
having a good time.
We had just been talking about the field work the guys were doing when Amber’s phone rang.
It was Wade. He’d been spraying weeds on prevent plant acres (farm fields too wet to plant)
and he was stuck in the mud with the sprayer. Those fields are still very wet!
The response here at home was immediate and action swift. Within a minute we had a plan.
Amber and Dustin headed north to retrieve equipment needed to pull the sprayer out of the
mud from another tractor in another field. Brianna took off in a different direction to bring
Grandpa home so he could drive yet another tractor to pull the sprayer out with. It will be all
hands on deck until the sprayer is freed from its muddy trap.
I wrapped burgers and sent them along with the retrieval crew, to sustain Grandpa and Wade
till they could sit down to eat, then cleaned the kitchen. Now, the house has suddenly grown
incredibly quiet and I have a few minutes to reflect.
My heart has been full of remembrance and longing for Darick and Missi in recent days, a little
more than usual, if that is possible. I miss them so much, and even though I know they are in a
perfect place, I can’t help but think of what they are missing here and how much they would
enjoy the action. When each of them died, a huge chunk of our family just disappeared.
I absolutely LOVE every minute we are together, but I can’t ignore the gnawing pain in my gut
that signals our common grief.
Tonight, as I saw my little group of farmers spring into action, I realized we are okay. It is not
okay that Darick and Missi are gone, it never will be. What I can see tonight, though, is the well-
oiled machine we who are here have become.
We are made up of many moving parts. Dad/Grandpa, Mom/Grandma, son/uncle,
daughter/aunt, granddaughter/niece, grandson/nephew. The herdsman, the mechanic, the
students, seasoned farmers and their apprentices, entrepreneurs, cooks, and so much more,
sharing our lives and nurturing each other. Darick and Missi would love this!
The truth is, I know they are still here. Though not in the way we wish them to be, their essence
is intrinsic to who we are and what we do. Darick and Missi are inseparable from the deepest
roots of our family. Our longing for their presence and our intimacy with their hearts will always
keep them here, relevant to our lives.
Darick and Missi left an indelible footprint on each of our souls. I know they are together, and I
pray they can feel how very loved they are. We embrace them still and are blessed by the
memories of them in this well-oiled machine we call a FAMILY.

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