The Alpaca Who Taught Me to Let Go

There was a time in my life when I believed I could fix almost anything.

For more than thirty years I worked at Costco. If there was a problem, I solved it. I worked harder, faster, and more efficiently. Determination was one of my greatest strengths.

If I'm being honest...

It was also one of my greatest illusions.

Then Hermes came into my life.

Hermes was my favorite alpaca.

He was as black as the night sky, with the gentlest spirit I've ever known. He had the sweetest hum, a soft sound that seemed to come from somewhere deep inside him. Even now, when I think of Hermes, I can almost hear it.

Then he began losing weight.

At first it was subtle.

Then it became impossible to ignore.

The veterinarian and I tried everything we could think of. Test after test. Treatment after treatment. We searched for answers together.

Nothing worked.

As the months turned into years, Hermes grew weaker.

Some days I would find him lying on his side in the pasture, unable to stand.

I'd call for my husband.

Together we'd wrap a towel beneath Hermes' belly and gently lift him to his feet. We'd slowly walk him back to the barn, one careful step at a time.

Sometimes he'd rally for a few months.

I'd begin to hope again.

Then the slow decline would return.

This became our rhythm for nearly three years.

Those were some of the hardest years of my life.

I was exhausted.

Heartbroken.

And completely consumed by the need to figure out what was wrong.

At the time, I was studying shamanism.

One day I said to my teacher,

"I just wish Hermes could tell me what's wrong."

Looking back now, I smile.

Because I thought I was asking for an answer.

Spirit was quietly leading me toward an entirely different path.

That simple wish became the beginning of my journey into animal communication.

But Hermes had another lesson waiting for me.

One I resisted with everything I had.

I couldn't control what was happening.

No amount of determination could change his illness.

No amount of research could guarantee more time.

For someone who believed that working harder could solve almost anything, this was almost unbearable.

Little by little, Hermes began teaching me something I had spent my entire life avoiding.

Sometimes love isn't about fixing.

Sometimes love is about being present.

Instead of spending every moment searching for the next treatment, I began spending more time simply sitting beside him.

Listening to his gentle hum.

Running my hands through his fiber.

Appreciating the quiet moments we still had together.

Nothing about his illness changed.

Everything about me did.

When the time finally came for Hermes to leave this world, he did so with remarkable dignity.

In the years since, I've watched many of my beloved alpacas grow old.

The boys in my herd are now between fifteen and eighteen years old.

Every time any of my beloved animal friends begin that final chapter, I find myself quietly thanking Hermes.

He showed me that loving someone doesn't always mean saving them.

Sometimes it means walking beside them with an open heart, trusting that Spirit is holding both of you.

Hermes thought he was teaching me how to say goodbye.

What he was really teaching me was how to let go of control.

And in letting go...

I finally discovered a deeper way to love.

You May Be Wondering...

How do I know when it's time to stop trying to fix everything?

I don't think there's one answer to that question. We continue to seek good care, ask thoughtful questions, and do everything we reasonably can for the animals we love. But there often comes a quiet moment when the greatest gift we can offer is no longer another solution—it is our presence. Sometimes simply sitting beside them, loving them exactly where they are, becomes the most healing thing either of you can experience.

May you see the world through the eyes of love, remembering that we are all part of one living, sacred whole.