I feel like I have just attended a funeral. After a death, there is a flurry of things that have to be done, arrangements to be made, legal matters to settle, and the mind and body are kept so busy that the grieving process can be delayed. But then, when the funeral is over and one returns to a quiet home, the reality sets in.In the past month I have found a new home for my beautiful palomino and buddy, Bart. Yesterday I received a call that he is now on his way to his new home in Montana with Penny. The next week I sold my living quarter horse trailer to Kathe from Colorado, and she just pulled out with the trailer. It was nice to see her excitement to begin making new camping memories. And last week I sold my diesel truck that pulled that trailer so well. The tack sale to get rid of all the totes full of blankets, bridles, halters, supplements and camping gear was a big success, and almost everything sold in the one day of the sale.
So in the past month I went from riding my horse and having the perfect truck and trailer for me, to being without even a hoof pick again. I walked into my house that has horse pictures and decor on all the walls and tables, past a horseshoe rack full of western hats above an assortment of riding boots, and a coat rack with western vests and riding jackets. I no longer have to remember to buy carrots when I go to the grocery store, or think to stop at the feed store for treats or bedding. At four in the afternoon, Wylee will cock his head at me as to ask "Isn't it time to go see Bart", but now I turn on "Judge Judy".
I get the emails from my horse friends with dates of trail rides, horse clinics and expos, and camping trips, but this year my file of "camping reservations" is empty. I have buried an activity that brought me much joy, laughter, exploration, friendships, and exercise for many years. My days will now be filled with other activities. Maybe I will finally join the health club. Maybe I will finally see Ireland. Maybe I will spend more time with my wonderful grandsons.
When a widow returns from the funeral of her loved one, she reflects on the wonderful memories of their time together, and begins to plan the rest of her life. It is a time of tears shed for the loss, but a time of new beginnings and opportunities.
Thank you to all my wonderful friends at Longview Ranch, Minnesota, Wickenburg, and Las Domas for some of the best days of my life. Thank you for the friendships, the lessons, the conversations and laughter, and the sharing of some incredible trails. You have given me precious memories that I will have for all the remaining days of my life. I thank you, my friends.
And I thank you for your offers to share a horse for a ride sometime, or a campfire on one of your rides. I hope I can take you up on your offers one day. It will not be the same as getting up on a chilly morning to smell Paul's coffee cooking over the fire, and to enjoy one of those Cowboy breakfasts while my horse is having his own breakfast. Or to see the morning sun glistening of the gold hairs of my buddy as I saddle him up for a ride. Or to see the spectacular views on a mountain ride from his back. Or to crawl into my comfy bed in my camper at the end of a day or riding and relaxing around the night campfire. No, it won't be the same. Life changes. Transitions are made. But memories are forever.
