<p>It just finished raining.</p>
<p>And I just finished listening to “The Way I Heard It — with Mike Rowe.” His voice is simultaneously soothing and encouragingly upbeat — and his podcasts are rarely longer than 10 minutes.</p>
<p>The moment I look up from my oak desk, out the window and past the red-headed woodpecker going to town on the peanut butter suet I placed in the birdfeeder yesterday, my eyes spot a huge tan movement in the cow field. Slowly slipping on my glasses, the huge whitetail comes clearly into vision. She’s feeding after the rainstorm.</p>
<p>And for some reason I keep thinking of elephants.</p>
<p>I remember the YouTube video my daughter had me watch years ago — of baby and adult elephants standing in solidarity over a deceased elephant. The elephants stood over their lifeless herd member and swayed. One-by-one they stepped out of their swaying line and delicately ran their trunk over the body of the departed family member. It was their way of mourning through their grief.</p>
<p>Elephants live in tight-knit herds for up to 70 years, forming strong bonds with those around them. Studies show that when one dies the rest of the herd mourns the death. Mothers and aunts are prone to mourn the death of a calf, which can be physically visible through her sunken eyes, drooping ears and visibly miserable mood.</p>
<p>The herd will ensure to bury the dead, by walking back and forth in search of leaves and twigs to cover the body. Even years later, elephant have been observed revisiting the site where one of their herd or family had died. They will remain here for days at a time, mourning the loss of that one.</p>
<p>Journalist and author of “Elephant Destiny,” Martin Meredith recalls an occurrence in his book about a typical elephant death ritual that was witnessed by Anthony Hall-Martin, a South African biologist who had studied elephants in Addo, South Africa, for over eight years.</p>
<p>The entire family of a dead matriarch, including her young calf, were all gently touching her body with their trunks, trying to lift her. The elephant herd was all rumbling loudly. The calf was observed to be weeping and made sounds that sounded like a scream, but then the entire herd fell incredibly silent. They then began to throw leaves and dirt over the body and broke off tree branches to cover her. They spent the next two days quietly standing over her body. They sometimes had to leave to get water or food, but they would always return.</p>
<p>A fine gentleman I talked to at the Johnson County horseshoe pit mentioned the overwhelming family challenges he was facing. And it reminded me that in the midst of life’s ups and downs we will mourn and grieve — family and friend relationships, separations, careers, diseases and death.</p>
<p>But as we naturally grieve, we can also expect the sun to come out.</p>
<p>And like the deer out my window, when it’s your time to mourn, don’t forget to take care of yourself and eat between the rain storms.</p>
