The Process Continues

Sometimes when I’m feeling sad I take a little ride to the paddock and hang with the horses for a while. I’ve been going there since the boys started riding many years ago. Liam was two when he started and this month he will turn 12. How fast those years went by. Most of the horses know me and they come over to the rail. Today only one came over. I pat his velvety fur and we have some conversation. He entertains me by throwing his head back and braying. We understand each other. The look in his eye speaks more than words ever could. If you ever get the chance, look a horse in the eye. You will be amazed by the tender look you receive. In the fall the fields are beautiful. Red maples, golden yellows, and coppery oranges. The trees sway gently on most days and there is a lovely little pond close by, sometimes a family of swans will be there to brighten up the day. I stand in silence with my friend. He doesn’t expect much except a tender touch from me and all I need from him is his understanding of my feelings. I look in his eyes and he gives me a nudge as much to say “I understand”. Horses, as well as other animals, are very intuitive to the feelings of their people. This mighty animal is as gentle as a kitten and as such he just stands in front of me until he senses I am ok. When I leave I might still be sad but I know that the horse has just delivered a new sense of peace to me. Standing in the field with him, surrounded by Mother Nature, I am always in awe. You can feel the stillness and hear the quiet. The only sounds are the birds chirping in the trees and the horse braying. So in return for his patience and love, I give him a peppermint. He crunches it like it was a big old bone, nods his head one more time and we both turn and walk away…blessed are the peacemakers both great and small…

Today marks the fourth month of missing my brother and my sweet Gracie…although the healing process continues, some days are just so hard. Nature and animals are always my comfort. The woods, the meadows, and yes, even the paddock are magical and mysterious, and of course, the horses themselves with all their grace deliver their own kind of sunshine and warmth. They remind me that there is something much larger than me controlling my time on this planet. Once again, I am trying to trust the process and find peace in knowing that my brother did what he was supposed to do here on this earth and he did it so well. At the end of the day, he was tired, so tired, that he had to go home. I am forever grateful that he and Gracie traveled the path home together. Both of them brought such joy to so many. I do hope now that they are both resting in peace but I have a sense that my brother is still watching over all of us who are missing him still.

“We grieve because we love. The intensity of the grief often proclaims the depth of our love.”

— Gary Roe