The Week After, Day 3

Today is better. After talking with Virginia yesterday, I knew I had to work on getting some answers to my questions. The sadness is leaving, but there is an emptiness.

I had to get up early as the horses needed a round bale. I can’t do that alone. I can get a bale, feed the horses some grain to keep them away from the open gate, open the gate, pull the tractor and bale through, get off and close the gate, and drive to the round bale feeder. But I can’t lift the round bale feeder anymore. I used to be able to do that, but what happens to your strength as you age? So that means I had to get up early before Tom left for work and get him to help me.

As I drove to my eye appointment this morning, Christi, a fellow CTR friend, called me. This was the first day that I could talk to someone on the phone and not cry. She, as well as many friends who own horses, have gone through either colic or a death of a horse. Since I have gone through all the emotions, I could talk.

I told Christi that I tried to figure out what I could have done differently. If I hadn’t rode Finny, he wouldn’t have died. But like Christi said, and to everyone out there who is reading this, REMEMBER THIS, if you don’t use your horse for what you have planned to do with your horse, then the horse would be sitting in the pasture and you wouldn’t be doing anything. Do you not go back into a car after you hear about a car accident? Some things like this happen, and we won’t know why.

Another thought: changing feed and electrolytes don’t always help. Doing anything differently that day may not have helped. Colic just happens, and it stinks.

I could talk this morning because I think the sadness and guilt and questions and anger are a little less. I have been in the horse business long enough to know that horses are going to die and sometimes there is nothing you can do. Sometimes, all we can do is make the suffering go away. Sometimes, all we can do is be their friend while they are here and remember them when they are gone.

Today, at the store, I could talk to a few people about Finny. I felt like I was talking about him as though he was a different horse or belonged to someone else. I felt like when I talked about how he died, I separated myself from Finny and was talking about the problem. Maybe today, that is how I am dealing with the emotions.

Today, I could finally talk to Sara. She only knew that Finny had colic and died. I had only texted her and briefly told her as soon as I left the vet clinic on Saturday. She had read the blog and knew what had happened. We talked about Finny. And I talked about the ride. And about Duke. And about her horses.

And I talked to Makenzie, even though all she did was wave at the phone. I ride horses to pass my love of horses on to Makenzie and Caden.

This love can’t be suppressed. We need to love. We need to mourn. We need to remember. We need to smile over the wonderful memories. We need to keep riding.

I’ll be riding again soon. Not today. Probably not tomorrow. But soon.