The Emotional Support Chicken Story, Continued…

Last year, right about at this time, I blogged about my nephew, my sister, and the Emotional Support chickens that I had knitted for them. You can read that blog post here, if you wish. Here is the very short version of that post: my sister asked for support chickens when she learned that her son was suffering from terminal liver failure. After his death the chicken that I sent her became a lifeline as she slept with it, took it to her son’s memorial services, and then to his interment of ashes. That knitted chicken, a small thing, became an important symbol of love and support in a time of grief.

Here’s the chicken, looking sassy, on the morning that I sent her off to my sister.

The chicken moved on with her when she moved to Cody, Wyoming. It was with her, in her bedroom on Monday, June 16th when she took a bad fall getting out of bed that resulted in a broken leg and a serious cut. The chicken was left behind as she was rushed to the nearest hospital.

Thus began a sad, long list of problems and complications as my sister was stabilized, taken to surgery, moved to the cardiac unit, and then scheduled for more surgery. My cat went down a few days into this downward spiral of medical disasters, and by the time I got him home from the Vet Saturday night it was clear that my sister was in trouble. Sunday, we learned that she was being transported to another medical facility in Montana that was better equipped to treat her. Her daughter in California grabbed the first available flight to join her mother and her sister at the new hospital. Somewhere within this time frame the emotional support chicken caught up with her.

Here she is, ready to go to work, in the waiting room of that Montana hospital.

And that was it, the beginning of the end. My sister was moved to hospice care, and her last days and hours were as peaceful as the staff could make them. To the end, the chicken was with her, hard at work, a surrogate for me at her side.

Do you see the chicken tail sticking up out of the covers? That quilt is one that I sewed her years ago to be a cheerful addition to her hospital bed when she got a hip replacement.

Tuesday morning my sister slipped away, with her daughters by her side: it was exactly one year and one month after the death of her son.

Emotional support chickens are just… cute little knitted chicken shaped pillows to hug. They are also symbols of love and support when you need those things desperately. They are something to cling to in bad times. Sometimes they are all a knitter can do for another person in need, and sometimes they are just what that person needed.

It’s just a little chicken. It can be everything.

Knit on, my friends, knit on!

My snarky, supersmart, indominable sister Selma. Gone too soon, part of me forever.

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Author: Midnight Knitter

I weave, knit and read in Aurora, Colorado where my garden lives. I have 2 sons, a knitting daughter-in-law, a grandson and two exceptionally spoiled kittens. In 2014 I was diagnosed with a serious rare autoimmune disease called systemic sclerosis along with Sjogren's Disease and fibromyalgia.

31 thoughts on “The Emotional Support Chicken Story, Continued…”

  1. Oh Marilyn … this reminds me so much of when I lost my beloved second-eldest sister. I only interpolate myself into your story because I want you to know that I really understand your grief …

    Your ems chickens – that I read about here long before they became widespread on YouTube – are quite obviously doing exactly what they’re meant to. All power to you, my dear !!!

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  2. Looking at that photo, I know I would have loved your sister. She looks as irrepressible as one of my two sisters. Sending you warm thoughts and hugs.

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  4. I can’t begin to imagine the depth of emotions you’re going through. It was lovely to see that, in the hospital, your sister was surrounded by your handwork, symbolic of your love for her. I’m so sorry for your loss.

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  5. I’m so sad and sorry to learn of the loss of your sister, Marilyn. It was so sweet that you made the beautiful and comforting chicken for her.

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  7. I’m so sorry and nice that the chicken could travel on that sad journey from you to her son to sister. a symbol of love passed between you .

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  8. I am sorry to hear about your beloved sister. What an unexpected (and sad) whirlwind you have had recently with both your sister and Mateo. I know you will weather the storms because you are one of the strongest people I “know.” Looking at all of the items you made for you sister in love made my heart ache for you and then smile because of the physical manifestation of the love you have. The quilt being wrapped around Selma in particular with its brightness in a medical room. The little chicken butt was also emotional given how I have read the stories about them. I hope that you are giving yourself love and attention right now too.

    x The Captain

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    1. Thank you. I have been thinking about how all of this ended up. Homemade gifts aren’t that big a thing these days, but in this case they were priceless. As my nieces and I are going through her belongings, we are finding that it is the homemade items (quilts, etc.) that are the items that are the most meaningful now.

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  11. I am so sorry. You poured all of your love into the things you made for your sister. That love was there giving her a warm hug and making her feel your presence. Memory Eternal.

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  16. Marilyn, I missed this post when you shared it last summer. I’m sorry for your profound losses of your nephew, your sister, and your son. You write beautifully about the joys and sorrows, the love and the grief. Arms around you. Long live the emotional support chicken.

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