It is funny how, seven years later, you still permeate my life so much that I knew I had to come to the farm today even though I could not remember why. I wasn't feeling well this morning and G gave me an opt out, saying he'd come next week and help me groom, but I knew I had to come.
I was in the barn with Rex, spending some time giving that filthy boy a deep groom, when I remembered. First, I thought I had missed it by two days but I think my heart knew. It has grown so used to grieving on this day that it does it on its own, without any help at all.
When my Nana passed away, Daddy told me an analogy about how losing someone or something special to you is like when you pull a large boulder out of the ground. At first, that hole is jagged, it wants for something to fill it. As time passes, eventually it smooths out, sometimes it fills in a bit. There is always, however, a groove there. Eventually, the grieving turns to memories you can call to mind on any day of the week and be happy to have them. Eventually, you stop saying "I wish there was a rock here." every second day. Eventually, you learn to function and move on, and you allow yourself to grieve on days like today.
Seven years ago, I came home at this time of day and saw you laying in the field - sunbathing, everyone insisted, but I knew something deeper was wrong.
The heart knows, doesn't it? Just like I knew something was happening the night that you foaled when I was in another city and it took three grown man to pull that dead colt out of you but didn't hear the news until the next morning. Just like I knew about the sorrel and white filly growing inside of you that first year, that filly that would go on to touch hearts that I didn't even know would need touching. Just like I knew that you would leave me that night.
After four years of teaching me to love horses again, to trust in my partner, to believe in myself, and how to know an equine so well that you can tell in six seconds whether something is wrong or not, you had completed your work here on Earth and you moved on.
You opened up the door for Bronwyn to come into my life. And you left me Rex and Ari. And you reminded me that it is okay to cry when you have to. And you gave me a special appreciation for falling stars - because so many fell that night while I walked you, and now every time that I see one, I know you are reminding me to listen to my heart, and letting me know I am going in the right direction.
Most importantly, you taught me that everything will pass, too - no matter how hard it seems to overcome. That someday I will look back on every challenge I have faced and be reminded that I had to be there to be where I am now. That everything that happens exactly the way that it is supposed to.
My girl, I had no idea I was learning these lessons when I was learning them. It took me a long time to appreciate it. Seven years later, I can say I still miss you, but the overwhelming emotion is THANK YOU.
|Angel & Rex Spring 2006|