525,600 Minutes.
8760 Hours.
365 Days.
12 Months.
1 Year.
How do you measure a year? In daylights? In sunsets? In minutes? In cups of coffee?
I posted the same lyrics on the day of our 1-year anniversary.
There is no denying that a Year is significant. We celebrate seasons, anniversaries and birthdays every year.
It has been a year since I lost my goofy boy.
The day he passed was covered in snow and so very very cold. Today it's in the 30's, there hasn't been snow for weeks, and it's raining.
I wonder what life would be like if he had survived.
I don't get to know.
What I wouldn't give to step into the TARDIS and go visit him. To run my hands along his sleek roan coat, which was never shiny because roans don't shine, but it felt very shiny. His big dumb white head with his always-dirty nose, his almost-arab-curled-in ears. His big heavy feet (all four clumsy left feet of his) and his beautiful tail. I miss his eyes. He had roan eye lashes, you know. Such a tiny detail you wouldn't notice until you spent hours looking into his eyes. I miss the view from between his ears. I miss fighting with him. I miss his affection. I miss being a horse owner.
In some ways I've moved forward, but as I sit here and write, the tears are flowing faster than the keys. I certainly feel better than I did a year ago, and for the most part I can talk about it and think about it without getting too sad.... until I think about it too much. Sometimes something in a movie or a song will hit me too hard.
I miss him. I will always always miss him.
When I look in the mirror of Erised I see him. But I know that "It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live." JK Rowling taught me that through Dumbledore's words. But I'd still use a Time-Turner if I could find one.
I sold all his blankets and his tail. I super-cleaned all his brushes and divided them into two kits, one for Lilly at one barn and one for Kevin at the other. His embroidered halter hangs in my tack box but I try not to look at it. His everyday halter and lead are still in a grocery bag tucked in the back invisible bottom compartment of my tack box. I still can't bear to do anything with it.
There were some things that were "his" that I can't imagine using on another horse, like his show halter that sits in it's padded bag in the closet. But there are things, like the plain one-ear headstall that I got way back when I was showing Banee in 4H that I have no problem using on Kevin because some things were "mine."
I'm not ready to have a horse again yet; neither financially nor emotionally. Kevin was lame for a few weeks (bad farrier job, NOT my farrier) and I had a terrible time not freaking out about what kind of terminal injury/disease it might be. Clearly I'm not ready to have that kind of commitment to be overanxious about. But it's nice to be riding and have goals and something to look forward to and help keep me in some sort of riding shape. Kevin is not cuddly, but Lilly is, so at least there's that.
I was thinking I'd have more of a memorial project done by now but I don't. I have plans for the one shoe of his that I have, and the brass name plate I got just before he had his surgery. I did order a photo book from Shutterfly so that's a nice thing to have on my coffee table. I didn't add any words, just pages of photos, some pages were themed and some were just a collage.
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| The front cover. |
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| The back cover. |
"Learn this well, the last ride is never the last ride, & the end is not the end."
I'm headed out to the barn today for a little holiday barn party. I'll bring the book, but I'll let Kevin help keep me moving forward. Go hug your ponies for me.
