What our horses do for us.
Today my sister would have been 54. She didn't make it to 49, and she died a tragic death trying to escape from an abusive husband. She was staying with me at the time, and although she wasn't a horsewoman, she spent a lot of time in the barn with me during those awful weeks before her death.
One of the last things she said to me was that she finally understood why I love being in the barn and around horses so much. She told me that while she was staying with me, she found peace and tranquility in the barn that she hadn't felt in a long time, and she hoped to keep horses in her life in the future. Coming from someone who was decidedly an indoor girl growing up, that meant the world to me.
My horses helped me survive her loss, and although it has been a long, tough road since her death, my family and I are doing well. However, when I went to her grave today to pay her a birthday visit, I discovered that someone had vandalized her grave for the third time in five years. Every momento, from the smallest seashell to the pottery marker I made with her initials, to the lovely (and heavy!) cement planter I placed there to mark her resting spot because her husband refused to buy her a headstone, was gone.
What kind of monster would do this?
The desecration of her grave brought back all the hurt, anger, and loss so strong, I thought I'd just lose it today. But I spent time with my horse, grooming him, fussing over him, working around the barn. I didn't even ride, but once again, he worked his magic, calming my anger and helping me sort things out and put things in perspective. What are a few momentos...they may be gone, but no-one can touch our wonderful memories of my sister.
Thanks, Bear. And thank God for all our horses.