Oh, my sweet, sweet girl...
In The Beginning
You taught me more than you could ever know... You gave me a passion I still do not know the extent of. You gave me a future, and a plan, even if it didn't come until later. You gave me a love, which I had not yet know, a drive to better myself, to become something you could be proud of. The passion you gave me for equine activities started as a small flame, to a raging fire in these last ten years. You taught me about every gift you gave, without me even knowing it. No other horse in the world could have touched me the way you have. You gave me the ability to ride. Mom or Sue taught me what to do, but how could I have accomplished anything without your encouragement? You taught me to ride, to fall off and get back on, to groom, to saddle, to put on a halter or bridle. You taught me that even bombproof horses spook, that horses that don't buck, can buck, that its okay to make mistakes, and rise above them, and how to be patient, though sadly I'm only truly patient with things involving horses... The point is, you gave me everything that I couldn't survive without in the equine world, plus some. And you gave me your love, and your patience, and your labor, and your knowledge. I am eternally grateful, and you are such a selfless creature. Without you, I don't know where I would be.
In The Midst
I took you for granted, and I regret it so, so much. I didn't do much with you, choosing to let you graze all day. I was so busy exploring what I could do with the other horses, and learning to jump, that I neglected your need for my love. I'm so sorry, my sweet girl. When the vet checked up on you, and warned us, and we decided to retire you from riding when your hips developed arthritis, and you could barely lift your leg, I started distancing myself from you, bracing myself for the day I wouldn't see you grazing with the herd. I was so selfish, choosing my fear over how you might feel, seeing me bring out everyone but you. That was probably biggest mistake of my life. And what sucks? It didn't help anything, and after several months, I started getting closer to you again, overwhelmed by guilt. And then the day came you couldn't get up. May 2014.
In The End
You taught me to let go. To let go when I want so badly to hold on. You were never the type to stay laying down when were around, but you set to your head in my lap, and I knew it was time for us to part. I could see the pain in your eyes. I couldn't let you suffer anymore. You taught me about the hardest part about having horses. The part where you have to say goodbye. I'm not ready. I'll never be ready, but I suppose this is my way of trying. What's past is past, and I'm going to have to look forward, but I will never forget you. Just because I'm looking forward doesn't mean I can't glance back. And, you know what? Your still teaching me, even after your gone, teaching me to heal and teaching me to continue. But gosh, I miss you.
I miss you so very, very much. I miss the way you would whinny at me every time I came around the corner off the porch. I miss the way you would walk away when I go to stroke you, but when I would give up on following you around, you'd start following me, instead, looking for attention. Of course, when I'd go back to you, it would start all over again... I miss how when it was just us, without the ponies, or the other horses in sight, you would shove your head into my chest and just let me hold you. I even miss the exasperation I would feel when I looked at your mane or tail after I JUST groomed it yesterday. I miss seeing you happy, and pain-free, before you got hip problems. I miss seeing you out in the pasture, pushing the ponies around, ripping grass up like you'd never tasted it before, and I miss your stubborn personality, or how I didn't understand how you could get so dirty in such a short amount of time... I miss your gorgeous eyes, your velvety nose, your fuzzy ears, your frizzy forelock, your thin mane, your faded brown specks sprinkled around your entire body, your snowy white fur, your fuzzy feathers adorning your feet, the warmth under your mane, the sound of your hoofbeats, the smell of your fur, and even the taste of it when the wind picks up while I'm talking and grooming you. Well I don't miss the last one so much, but I never truly minded it. You taught me so much and I am so terribly grateful. A part of me wishes you were still here, but I won't allow myself to say that, or think about that, because I know just how much pain you were in. And my, weren't you a stubborn girl, huh? You made it to 29 before you got tired. Oh, my sweet sweet, stubborn, strong, smart, smart girl. I remember when I was really young and new to jumping and I made this jump, I set up two tires flat on the ground, and put a pole over them. I was probably six or seven, maybe even eight, but I was so excited to try this jump that would be my largest yet. I remember I got so frustrated! No matter what I tried, you just would not go over it! I was in tears by the time I had given up, I set down the reins and there you were, from a standstill, jumping over this tire with me completely unprepared, and you stopping immediately when you got over it. I still remember how hard it was to get off of your neck and back in the saddle. That was definitely a struggle, it was a western saddle, and I was sitting in front of a tall horn that I was somehow supposed to crawl over, backwards, while I was sitting on your neck! Talk about a smart horse. And that time I was learning how to canter, and I warmed you up, then asked for a canter and you headed straight to the shelter, however much I protested. So, try as I might to get you to turn, you just kept going till we got there, then you just pretended that nothing happened. When I hadn't ridden for a month or so after I came off Seattle, and you were so stinking stubborn! You kept going to the gate and I was on the verge of tears when I threw down the reins and yelled "DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM?! " Yeah, I might have been jeeeuuust a bit frustrated, but hey, I was like, eight! I swear you understood me, though. You bobbed your head, up, down, up, down, up, and then after that you acted better than usual with your stubborn attitude. I remember my first fall, when you hopped (with impressive grace, too) nice and neatly, sidewise and I stayed right where I was. It was like one of those cartoons, where they fall of of something and stay without gravity for a second, then say "uh-oh" and plummet down. Obviously that's slightly exaggerated but looking back on it, that's what I feel like. You never bucked. Ever. Except for one time, I was lunging you in the roundpen and for a girl of eight who hadn't really seen a lot of horses buck, you looked like a bronc. Six times, you must have been feeling good. These days, I know its really not a lot, but I was impressed. You showed me even a horse that just doesn't buck, is capable of bucking. All of these memories I will cherish, because they were gifts for me to keep, as you were not. You came into my life when I was three, and you stayed for ten years, watching me expand my horizons and gifted me with sheer friendship. You know my every secret, my every mistake, my every accomplishment, my every failure. You carried me upon your back a thousand times more than you had to, listened to me a thousand more times than you had to, calmed me down a thousand more times than you had to. You didn't have to do any of it, and as hard as it was to let you go, when you laid there, your hips restraining you so much that you couldn't get back up, even with mom and myself helping you, I knew I had to. You were a blessing to borrow, but you weren't mine to keep. You weren't ever mine, but I was yours, and always will be. You have a good sized chunk of my heart, Comet, and I will never forget you, my sweet, sweet, sweet, girl. And even though you are a horse, you might as well be a human in a horses body, the way that you seemed to understand everything.
Thank you for everything, and I love you so, so much.
May your spirit always be free to roam the lushest pastures, and I know you'll get to see your foals again, and if you want, you could even be a comet, shooting past us every year.
Rest Peacefully, and Eat Oats
Goodbye, my baby girl...
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This is a personal letter to an animal I had a deep connection with, a great, noble beast who happened to be the best teacher anyone could ask for. This letter was written a few weeks after I lost my best friend, years ago, and as time goes on I never fail to come back and smile, laugh, and cry at a few fond memories I have left for you to see. This horse touched my heart in a place where truly no other will ever quite reach. She was my first many things, and I'll never forget her. I understand this may not be a polished creation, may not be "worthy of you", but its not intended to be. I have fixed a few mistakes that I made at four o'clock in the morning all that time ago, sleep deprived and enthralled as I was, but the raw emotion I had felt at the moment I created this will stay intact. This was for me, and me alone. This was how I truly said goodbye, and I have allowed others to see into the love I had for this animal, and that, to me, is priceless. This is not a planned out storyline, or anything of the sort I'm likely to create again. As such, I would expect any negative opinions be refrained from influencing general opinions of my work, as this is truly a private reflection of the grief I felt at that time. Comet was dear to me, and this letter is dear to me. I may always come back to read it, to view for myself the grief and the love I felt for her however many years come to pass. I hope you, reader, have been able to understand the depth of a bond a person can have with even an animal. It's a curious thing akin to no other.
