Fresh Reminders of What Has Passed

It snowed here about three weeks ago. The snow stayed on the ground, fluffy and deep enough to provide some cushion over the frozen earth. There's something special about the first few snowfalls that come before the first thaw. Hacking in the snow, or during a snowfall is just about the most fun that can be had with a horse. After the first falls there's no need to worry about hidden ice until the thaw comes. There aren't any layers of crusty snow and ice to scrape the horses' legs. Just a bouncy trotting horse spraying snow into the air as he asks for a gallop.

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My boy hadn't asked for a gallop for a long time, but we did a lot of hacking in the snow over his last few years. It was great exercise for his stifles. With the first snow came the reminder that I will never take him out for a hack in the snow again. He won't reach out as we pass a snow laden cedar and bend back a branch that will fling it's load all over me as it snaps back when he lets it go. We won't head out into the glow of a moonlit snowscape, or wander through a forest of bare limbed trees as snow gently falls.

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First snow hack without my boy. First Christmas without my boy. I miss him still. These firsts bring back the loss, but without the tearing intensity of the first days after he was gone. It's a bittersweet sadness as the first snow, first hack, first Christmas without him remind me of the times we had together.

In Memory of my Horse

I know I will make the shadow box to hold his halter, but I've been thinking I'd like to do something else to remember my horse by. One of our friends made a donation to the charity of my choice in his memory, which is one option. I think I would like something tangible, useful and visible.

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Another friend plants trees for her dogs. The tree idea appeals to me a lot. It would be alive, long standing, and cast some pleasant shade once it grows large enough. Perhaps I could plant it out at the barn in a place where shade would be nice to have. I would see it often, and it would remind me of him.

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I have also been looking at horsehair jewelry and pottery sites on the internet. There are some beautiful items out there. I don't wear jewelry, and probably wouldn't even if it were my horse's hair so that seems a bit pointless. Something will catch my eye and work it's way into being the right choice.

The Spirit That Was My Horse

It's been a month now. The hole is filling with memories of life and I find myself drawing him back by telling people what he used to do, what he was like. Some of us were talking about our horses reactions when we go out in the field - variations on walking or turning away until we get close and then turning to us as if surprised to see us there. My boy used to watch for me at night and his distinctive whinny would come out of the darkness when he saw me take my other horse back out to a different field. As if to remind me not to forget to come down and bring him up for his dinner.

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I remember more details. Things to remember for next time, for sure as I loved him I will be making the decision again for other horses. His issue caused him well hidden pain for a very long time, even before we identified the problem. His subconcious, instincts told him that a lame horse was vulnerable and I used to call him my quarter horse, three quarter chicken because he was such a chicken. I wanted him to know that this pain and the fear it caused did not define who he was. The pain and fear must be left behind. He should take his great courage and generosity for these defined the spirit that was my horse.

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I still miss him dearly, but the great gaping sense of loss has eased and I now remember him in life before death.

Inheritance and memory

I brought my yearling in yesterday for some training and grooming. I managed to go through my old horse's grooming kit and sort it out so I could use it for my yearling's stuff. He inherited some items from my old horse, and I put the few items he already had into the box.

I felt a bit weird bringing the box out to the crossties - somehow the box still isn't my yearling's kit yet. I still look at it and think of it as belonging to my old horse.

Dawnfire

This morning I looked into the field and saw one of the other chestnuts at the hay feeder. He was standing broadside to me, had the same colour blanket that my old horse did, and his head mostly in the hay. The early morning sun slanted across the field and fired a wide golden highlight along the crest of his neck. For a moment, just a moment he looked like my horse as that golden highlight looked like my horse's mane the way it was always neatly arranged along the left side of his neck. I knew it wasn't my horse, but the shape and colour just vividly brought my horse back to mind instantly.

Tidying up

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It's been well over a week, and while most things have returned to normal there are still some tidying up jobs that I need to do. I think about them almost every day I am at the barn.
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His bridle is still hanging up on a hook. His grooming kit is still in my locker. His rainsheet still in the trunk of my car. I need to go through my stuff and decide what to do with his things, clean and store the ones I won't be using for a while, and give away, sell or chuck out the rest.
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I can't face them yet. I can look past his things without feeling his loss fresh, but I think the act of going through them will be difficult. I need a little more time first.

Who was he?

Almost no one knows who my first horse was now. I think about that, and then I think about my second horse and how I could answer the question "Who was Tommy?"

There are many answers. He was a sorrel American Quarter Horse. He was my first greenbroke horse. He was the horse with whom I entered the dressage arena for the first time - the horse that started my love of dressage. He was the horse with whom I entered the Hunter rings and learned about the hunter/jumper discipline. I wanted to try eventing with him, but his hock issue prevented that from occuring. He was the accident prone horse who came up with so many varied injuries that I became competent in recognizing and treating a wide range of issues - and knowing when to call the vet. He was the horse who kept me going out to the farm after my first horse was euthanized. He was the horse that nickered to me when I called him. He was the horse who was guinea pig for my various trials in keeping an active competition horse on pasture board. He was the horse who taught me about the importance of saddle fit as he showed white hairs from pressure spots very quickly. He was the horse that showed me what true courage was all about. He was the horse who looked after my friends when they rode him. He was my goto horse for teaching people about lateral work. He was lazy enough to not argue with a rider who was determined, but also lazy enough to give the minimum asked for. He was a worrier. He was generous. He was a great heart. He was a trier, willing to try anything if I asked it of him.

He was my student. He was my teacher. He was my partner.

Most of all he was my friend and I am richer for having had him in my life, and poorer for having lost him.