Life Without Gogo

(Kat drew this picture of Gogo in 2009 and forgot to show me until she tagged it just now on Facebook. Oh Mami, so gorgeous!)


It's been a very bizarre and uncomfortable week. Monday was all stress and anxiety going into Tuesday's euth appointment, Tuesday was obviously all-around miserable despite the enjoyment and final memories that we shared together, and Wednesday and Thursday have been empty and sad and confusing for me. You don't realize how often something is in your subconscious thought until you have to stop and correct yourself every time you think about it. For example: we weaned our two little babies yesterday on the farm, and I caught myself thinking about what Gogo's babies would be like. Or watching a horse on the AquaTread, I thought about wanted to put her on it again with regularity. Or getting off work early, I automatically head in the direction of the barn like I did every day to go see her after work. It's still very much a state of denial and shock for me. Writing is very therapeutic, so I'm glad I have somewhere to exercise it a little bit.

I know it was just as hard for me to deal with the last two deaths of my horses, but for whatever reason, it's just different this time for me. I'm a bit older and far more mature than I was when I lost the last two (I was 19 and 21 at the times, and am now 26), and am in a completely different place in my life. When Quincy died, I already had Metro to turn to for support and company. When Metro died, I immediately jumped in and began my search for a new horse right away - it helped me heal in a lot of ways, and gave me something to direct all my energies towards instead of fretting about losing my friend. Now, I'm in a place where I'm just not quite ready yet to seriously begin looking for a new horse. The grieving process is different. It's not about completely distracting myself from my grief this time, it's about fully embracing and accepting it. It's about immersing myself in the memories I have of her, and mourning for the fact that I won't be able to share any more of my future with her. We were a match set, she and I.... one came with the other as a package deal. Especially in 2009 when I was her primary caretaker in all ways from sunup to sundown (when I was a working student in Connecticut right out of college), she was my entire life and everything that it centered around. I've not made a major life decision in the past five years without majorly factoring her. She has influenced everything I have done. Life without her is like learning to walk all over again using different legs. Or possibly two legs instead of four... I'm not sure. Either way, it's awkward and uncomfortable and very, very sad. Time will work magic on all of this, as it always does, but it will take a long time.

I summed it up best when I described her as the cheese to my macaroni. With her, my horsey life had a very distinct flavor and personality, and without her I am just a bland bowl of vaguely soggy noodles without a sauce... incomplete. I know some other delicious flavor will come along - alfredo sauce, or spaghetti, or who knows what kind? - and will enrich and re-flavor everything. It will be a different flavor and a different dish entirely, but it will still be delicious and awesome. It will just take time.



Are you ready for the waterworks? Bre made this amazing video for us... don't watch this at work if you are emotionally inclined, because you will probably tear up. I know that I personally need to stop watching it, because even after like the 10th time I'm still BAWLING my eyes out every time.




And I cannot thank you guys all enough for the support you've given me. SO many e-mails, comments, calls, texts, and more have still been pouring in from all over the world, and I cannot tell you how amazing that has felt. Thank you all so much, seriously. Thank you.