Another gut check…

I haven’t really figured out how to deal with grief. I have conflicting emotions about it, and that only seems to intensify the feeling because I’m not sure how to handle it.

One of the horses in my care was put down this morning. Ariel. Such a pretty name. Such a sweet mare. She was old. She had cancer. It wasn’t the cancer that pained her, however, it was an abcess she developed in her throat. It wouldn’t go away, and there was nothing we could do. She was miserable and straining to breathe, and the only humane thing to do was to help her go peacefully.

That doesn’t make it any easier to deal with, unfortunately. I was expecting this to happen soon because of the cancer. But I wasn’t expecting it today. I’m grateful for the rain today… rain makes tears seem more appropriate.

The thing is, my first reaction upon hearing about Ariel being put down was to shout to the world that she was going to die. I wanted to blog about it immediately and make everyone feel my grief. But I couldn’t write. I didn’t yet have the words, and I felt like I was doing her a disservice by telling the world. I needed to let her go peacefully.

So my second reaction was to bottle it in. To push my grief down and feel it. To let the tears flow inside. To simply remember her, and grieve for her, and let it hurt for a while before seeking comfort. So I did that. And I’m still doing that. But just now, I wrote a little note to her people, telling them how sorry I am and how much I’ll miss her. And in that note, I said I trust she’s now happy and pain free in greener pastures than ours.

And I truly believe she is. And that. That makes me feel better. Knowing she doesn’t hurt anymore. But that hasn’t assuaged the tears just yet.

This horse stuff is hard. It’s hard on my emotions. It’s overwhelming and exhausting, and days like this, I wonder why I even do it. Why I let myself get sucked in so intensely. Why can’t I keep them at a distance? Aloof-like? But I know it wouldn’t be the same… and it wouldn’t be worth it.

I suppose it’s healthy to grieve. It puts things into perspective and allows you to reevaluate what’s most important. I do it because I love it. Because I love them. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Rest in peace, Ariel. I’ll miss you.