It's been one of the toughest, most heart-opening weeks of my life. Bottomless lakes of tears, a pulsating heart chakra, waves of grief pouring over me. We have lost both our horses this week, and last night they were buried together, in the garden, under a starry sky. A big machine came up to the farm to make a hole for their soft bodies. They are resting together, I can see the fresh soil covering their grave from where I am sitting now. In spring we will plant two trees there: a weeping willow and a horse chestnut.
I just walked the trail of sorrow, from their stable to the places they died and to where they are buried. Saw their footprints in the mud. Remains of their last meal of hay. Tufts of hair, piles of poo, marks from their gnawing on posts, an empty water bucket. I howl, I weep, I sigh. It never feels empty.
I am so thankful for having had them in my life, and yet I have no idea how to deal with the loss. The longing for their sounds, the way they smelled, the warmth of their bodies. Their presence, their soulfulness, their beauty.
I just let it wash over me.
