“Lessons in Chemistry.” “Remarkably Bright Creatures.” “Shrinking.” And now, “The Sheep Detectives.”

Honestly, I haven’t sought out books, TV shows or movies that deal with loss, but they keep finding me.

A few months ago, I saw a really cute ad for an upcoming movie about sheep. The preview reminded me a lot of the movie “Babe.”

Besides being an amazing movie, A went through a period of being obsessed with it. A would fixate on a movie and watch it, over and over again. It took me months to get Mater’s voice out of my head when he was in his “Cars” phase, but “Babe” was different. I didn’t mind watching it ad nauseam.

It also coincided with the final surgery in his staged heart repair. A had fallen asleep, and Steve and I took the opportunity to stretch our legs and grab a bite to eat.

As we returned, a nurse was coming out of the room. We immediately panicked, but she assured us everything was fine. A had woken up and pressed the call button because his movie had stopped. The nurse had asked him what movie he wanted to watch, and he groggily explained to her, “there’s this duck …” She thought it was adorable, and so forever after that, “Babe,” the pig movie, became “this duck movie.”

Anyway, the preview for “Sheep Detectives” reminded me so much of “Babe” that the nostalgia alone was enough to make me want to see it. I’m always up for an ovine story, having loved sheep my entire life. And, Emma Thompson being in it was just the icing on the cake.

It did not disappoint on any level. First, the sheep were so realistic. I mean, as realistic as talking sheep can be, but some of them bore striking resemblances to sheep that I’ve had over the years, whether it was looks or personality.

The two fighting brothers, played by Brett Goldstein, or as he is known to many, Roy Kent, could easily have been two young rams that my dad brought home, William and Bumper. They behaved exactly the same way, always looking for a reason to bash each other, or anything else that was in their way.

Lily was a ringer for a sheep named Easter, and Mopple could have been my sheep Belle’s brother.

The saga of the winter lamb was an all too familiar one, and although I didn’t have a negative association, since most of my lambs were always born in winter, the movie portrayed the posture and gait of an abandoned lamb almost too perfectly.

On the surface, it was a cute story about sheep, their foibles and their antics as they try to solve a whodunit. But, at its core, it was also a story of dealing with profound grief and understanding how life has to go one after such a tragedy. Much like those other works, I went in with one expectation, and left feeling that I watched a completely different show.

Movies, books and eventually TV shows have always been a source of escape and entertainment for me. Since Steve died, I have only been to a handful of movies, usually if one of the kids wanted to see something, or in the case of the “Top Gun” sequel, it was something I’d been waiting years to see.

I have found it harder and harder to sit and read a book, although occasionally one will grab my attention and I’ll go all in. Usually, it is because I just have too many other responsibilities and chores that need to be done, but it’s also because I can’t stand reading books where everything works out in the end.

I don’t think that it’s a coincidence that a movie like this is finding so much success, or why those other works I mentioned, even though they deal with heavy, hard-to-hold subjects, are successful, both in building an audience and winning awards. Loss was unavoidable during the pandemic, and as we continue to deal with a world that seems fractured, and broken in many ways, these stories of survival find a landing spot.

Although the characters in “The Sheep Detectives” eventually find a way to move forward, they still carry with them the weight of their tragedy, and it fundamentally changes their relationship with the world. It isn’t necessarily wrapped up in a neat bow, and filled with platitudes, which I appreciate.

I wish we didn’t need works like this, but at the end of the day, it also brings a measure of comfort knowing that there really are people out there who understand loss so profoundly that they can communicate this shared experience in a way that is real, and hopeful.

Liz Pinkey’s column appears on Saturdays in the Times News