04 August, 2014


It has been 7 months since Mimi died. In some ways, it feels like yesterday and in other ways, it feels like it happened years and years ago. Does that make sense? On most days, I am okay. Really.

            "time heals all wounds"

I have heard someone say this before. I have always disliked this saying. As a matter of fact, I despise any cliches and would gladly ban them from human language. No matter how heartfelt, this expression sounds HARSH and UNCARING. And yet, as more time continues to pass, it proves the truth of these words. It's been difficult to think of Mimi without my throat constricting and experiencing the crushing heaviness that pushes any happiness out of my life. Not having horses anymore has not only left a hole in my heart, it's left a hole in my life. Half the time, I don't know what to do with myself. Like the Dutch boy in the famous story, I am struggling to fill in the holes. 

I used to be spread so thin but there was comfort, safety and security in all of my busyness. I was so focused on the task at hand, that I really didn't have time to think about anything else. Not even addressing relationships, professional and personal goals and all of those things that I felt were in disarray and screaming for attention. You know, all the heavy stuff that I am procrastinating on. The horses kept me grounded. They centered me. Now, with them gone, I feel like I am unraveling. I know that sounds over the top and well, maybe, it is but really,
I've been dealing with it..in my own way. It's funny how a Google calendar reminder can prove that I wasn't dealing with any of it.

Reminder: Horses Wormed with Ivermectin/Praziquantel @ Every 2 months from 5pm to 6pm on day 3 

I needed to worm my horses. It was time. I even checked the cupboard to make sure that I still had enough Ivermectin on hand. Can you believe it? And then the startling realization, "listen stupid, you don't have horses anymore, remember?" And then, the tidal wave started to roar towards "the shores of my emotions" and my heart started to do "the Godzilla run" to safer shores. But no one can outrun Godzilla. No one. And there I was all over again, in dreadfully cold January with the vet pulling on her tail and guiding her body towards the ground, as the euthanasia drug started to take effect. My beautiful little mare lay on the cold, hard, frozen ground,  as life slowly ebbed out of her. No matter how much I try to forget, this is one of the more stubborn images. It just kills me and sends me to a bad place every time. I wish that I could just forget. But that's my problem. I don't think I am able to forget, because once upon a time, Mimi lived. To forget her death, would mean that I would forget her life. Death is part of living. One is always followed by another, right? Death teaches us how short and fragile life is. And when the absence of another causes great pain, THEN, if we think we have failed in life to accomplish anything meaningful or significant, we can be comforted in knowing that yes, we have been successful in exercising a love that knows no limits. As a matter of fact, on the same day that Google sent the reminder to worm the horses; Google also delivered my daily reflection and buried within this reflection, I read the following,
"...to realize more fully the reign of God on earth by means of sincere witness, increased mutual understanding, mutual respect for human dignity, and the exercise of a love that knows no limits."--On Our Way: Christian Practices for Living a Whole Life, edited by Dorothy C. Bass and Susan R. Briehl 
There are no coincidences in life. We are commanded to love and to love generously...everyone and everything. And if there is one truth that is able to ground me in this sorrowful time, it is love. And at the very core, the bedrock of my relationship with Mimi, was love. That's my nugget of truth. Because why else would this hurt so much if there was no such thing as love involved? I am so grateful that I was able to experience it. Every one should love like that. My Mimi, I loved that little mare.



PS I deleted the series of worming appointments on my calendar, to avoid more reminders.


Beth C. said...

Ralph, this is such a heart-wrenching post, and it reminds me so much of when I lost my Charisma. It makes me appreciate my time with Jabbaar so much more, and makes me sad when I think that our time is slowly running out. Love is the greatest gift......

kar120c said...

Dear friend, I hadn't read this heart breaking post until today. I wish I could console you and make your pain go away. Love truly hurts. It hurts so bad. It hurts so good. I have never gotten over the loss of my Finale and it has been 37 years. But I would not trade the memories of her, good and bad, for anything on this earth. I know that is how you feel about Mimi.

I miss talking with you. I feel not having horses removes you from the everyday life of horse people and I feel left out of the closeness that used to bring. I am living their lives vicariously. Maybe someday we will find a horse to fill our beloved's shoes, but until then, I hope we have a camaraderie in our losses. <3 Janie Karr