One year ago, at 3 in the morning, I found myself sitting in a stall, covered in shavings, stroking my best friend’s nose. He looked up at me with pain glazed eyes as I whispered to him non-stop, his ears trained on the sound of my voice. I had held myself together up until that point…but as he held my gaze, I began to cry as hard as I ever have.
A year later, and it can still be an insanely difficult thing to remember. I laid in bed last night and had a good cry. Obviously, I am no stranger to loss. I was ten when my father died, and eighteen when my mother died. Hell, just this past October, I lost my maternal grandmother, who played an integral part in my childhood. No, loss is not something I am unfamiliar with. The loss of GP, though, was an entirely new experience. I felt more alone than I ever had in my entire life, especially when people scoffed at me for being so broken hearted over “just a horse”. I couldn’t explain that he was more than “just a horse” to them…and even if I could, it wouldn’t matter. Dead parents? That they could understand, because everyone can relate to that, on some level. Rendered inconsolable over a horse? That just made me a little bit crazy, in their eyes. They didn’t understand that this horse not only saved my life, but helped me repair my very shattered heart. He taught me how to love again. He showed me what it was like to leave your problems in the dust as you galloped at mach ten. He allowed me to see that all of those silly, romanticized things about connecting with a horse were true. I had learned how to simply live life again with him by my side, and without him…well, I wasn’t sure how to keep on keeping on without my silly red horse.
Well, that stupid cliche that “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger” is one of the more true statements out there. I made it through, only slightly worse for the wear. I learned how to function without him in my life, and even though it sucks to not have him here, I’ve learned to come to terms with it. He was a grand old horse (even if he didn’t believe he was old) who lead an incredible life, and I am honored to have been a part of it.
Not to mention, if it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t have this adorable black beast waiting for me every weekend, with his fuzzy ears and sweet face. I miss GP each and every day, but it’s simply incredible to see where this journey has lead me. Everything happens for a reason, in my (not-so-humble) opinion, including bad things…and, usually, those bad things get turned into good things sometime down the road.
I miss you, silly red horse. Thanks for looking out for me, from wherever you are.