Death and Dying Archives -

The Gift of a Dying Mouse

By Simone Lipscomb | May 29, 2025

Three days ago, my hound dog Vern started barking his alert bark. That particular bark can mean a dinosaur is attacking, an eagle is in a tree chasing a squirrel (that actually happened), a box turtle is crossing the driveway (that also happened), or something really, really bad is about to happen. I went out twice to look in the direction he was barking. No turtle, eagle, dinosaur, or possum (a regular visitor to our yard).

Finally, my frustration at his incessant barking caused me to take the search outside the gate. I followed Vern’s gaze and saw a deer mouse pup that was struggling. It was fully furred but its eyes were not quite open, so it was probably just under two weeks of age.

*I mushed up blueberries and it would try to suck on them.*

I picked it up and examined it. There were no marks on it, it wasn’t bleeding, and it looked healthy except it clearly was not healthy as it couldn’t move well. It actually appeared to have neurological damage in the way it was moving. I held it to keep it warm and it perked up a bit. We walked around the edge of the driveway, me calling for mama mouse and looking for potential nest sites. After having no luck, I got a plastic container and cut a hole in the bottom, put a small, shallow water container in it and a little cloth and placed it there, under the carport, hoping the mother would locate it and take her babe.

After a couple hours I went to check on it and it had crawled out of the container and a large ant was biting its tail. NO WAY would I allow it to suffer like that. So, I brought it inside to my bathroom/bathtub and created a little deer mouse pup habitat where it resided for the past three days.

I knew the mouse was dying when I found it, otherwise I would have taken it to a wildlife rehab facility. I wanted to show it love and care for however long it needed to make the journey to the other side.

I kept it warm, offered tiny seeds, put out a shallow container of water, mixed a paste of ground almonds and water to leave for it. I tried not to handle it, but it loved curling up in my palm as I did Reiki on it.

Several times I’d check on little Bobbi and think she was dead. I would pick her up and she would move around and snuggle into my hand or climb around on it. I’d gently place her back into her mouse house and leave her to her journey; however, I was frustrated that she might be suffering, even though she appeared to sleep whenever I left her. Late this afternoon I brought her a beautiful yellow flower from the garden and laid it with her. And finally, a few hours later I checked on her and she had passed.

It broke me open. And I needed to be broken open. I’ve been so saddened by the toxic behaviors of so many and I’ve found myself feeling depressed. Bobbi, the deer mouse pup, helped cultivate compassion and kindness within me, and through her three day and night dying process, helped remind me that there is still gentleness in me and in a world that can appear so full of hatred and meanness.

Now, more than ever, it’s important for us to find the depth of love within ourselves so we can reflect it out into the world. Little Bobbi instructed me on how to do this as she made her way to the spirit world. Our little woodland in the Smoky Mountains had a lot more light shining and going out into the world this weekend due to our work together.

Years Pass, Love Remains

By Simone Lipscomb | December 10, 2013

Thirty-two years ago my father transitioned from his physical body. He was in his early forties and had been sick for many years. The memories of him seem distant now, faded like old photographs.

I was a senior at Auburn, my brother still in high school when he died. I remember my grandfather telling me, years later, that he wished he could have gone before daddy because the grief was so terrible. He said even worse than that of losing his spouse…our grandmother…after over 60 years of marriage.

When someone we love leaves, a hole is left in our being. No matter the cause or how long the illness lasts or if it is sudden, losing someone is difficult, it’s painful and we’re left behind trying to make sense of life.

At my daughter’s wedding this past summer I thought of how my father would have loved seeing Emily and Kevin get married. He never got to meet Emily….or her cousins. Or see me graduate from college.

The morning of my college graduation I woke up before everyone else and felt my father there….strongly. I had no doubt he had come to congratulate me. It was only six months after he had passed.

With Christmas being 15 days after his passing, less than two weeks after his funeral, none of us felt in the spirit; however, mom and my brother came to Auburn, where I lived at the time, and we celebrated the holiday as best we could. It was a difficult Christmas.

In an illness that is lengthy and mysterious and debilitating as was my dad’s, all the attention is placed on on the patient, the one that is sick. And of course that makes sense. But the hero in my father’s struggles was my mother. She managed to work a demanding, stressful job at the post office, put one kid through college and help the other graduate from high school during the worst of dad’s illness. That’s what parents have to do isn’t it? Keep on going for their children.

We never really talked about his illness and at the time there wasn’t much available as far as family counseling, grief counseling. Each of us did the best we could. My grandfather and other men cared for my father while mom was at work, when he got too sick to be alone. I was at Auburn, Lance in high school. And mom juggled it all.

When I got the call that he had passed, I had just finished my final exams the day before. Mom had gotten new tires on her car, at his request. I supposed he was tending to those last details, exercising what little control he had, remaining in his body until he could slip away peacefully, his mind at ease, his family as prepared as could be.

I’m not sure I’ve ever thanked my mother for being such a strong force during those years. I am so grateful for her strength and dedication to my father, to our family. So while I think of my father, it’s my mother I want to remember especially today. And thank her for everything she did for us…and continues to do.