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In Loving Memory...
~ Gogo Fatale ~

6/2/01 - 10/11/11
~ Forever the Marest of Them All ~

Thursday, October 11, 2012

One Year.

((Crossposted to The Continental Drift and Project Runaway))

I am struggling to find the words to begin this post. I've been sitting in front of the computer for a listless hour, unable to find a good place to start, so I suppose I'll just launch into it bluntly: today is the one year anniversary of Gogo's death. There, I have a start... perhaps now the words will come more freely. I feel very much like I've been stoppered up for the past year. When she died, the poetry just went clean out of me. 

I'm not entirely sure of where the past year has gone. It seems like October 11th of 2011 was such a long time ago, but I can't hardly remember what has happened in the past year to make it so distant. Twelve months into this grieving process, I don't feel better and I don't feel like myself still, but it has taken this long for me to realize that I am not the same without her, and life is not, and will never be, the same either. It isn't that life is now somehow less or is badly off, because everything else is filled with good things. It's just completely different, without anything else actually having changed. I am still with Future Hubs, I still have all the same critters, still have the same job, still am living here in Texas. Those things are all as wonderful as they have been. It is just me that is different... I am not the same as I was. Losing Gogo was a bit like someone forcefully cutting me in half and tossing one half of me back out into the world to keep going. It is very confusing trying to relearn how to live your life when half of everything you value and love is suddenly gone one day. You can prepare for it, if you know it is coming. You can ready yourself, steel yourself, prepare to lose it, surround yourself with loved ones, or push them all away just the same. It doesn't matter what you do, because you won't know how it really feels until it happens. Then, and only then, will you realize just how thoroughly unprepared you were to live on through unthinkable tragedy.

I know it sounds extreme. Honestly, just putting it out in writing sounds like I survived a war instead of just lost a horse. But those of you with horses in your life - probably most or all of you, I am assuming - know how much they affect you, and those of you who have lost them will understand. To those who haven't yet, I don't wish it upon you, but that day will come. On that day, you too will stand with me and feel that horror and pain and sorrow, and will still know in your heart that life is better having had and lost them rather than never having known them at all. But you'll never be the same again.

Not a day goes by when I don't think of her. Hardly a week passes when some memory, picture, or video doesn't make me sob like a baby or ache with sorrow. How could they not, when so much of my life revolved around her? She defined me as a young adult, molded and changed and shaped me into the person I am today, and her loss affected me just as hard as her life did. I am different now, and I will never be the same.

Having Pangea and Imogen in my post-Gogo life has been a very strange, exciting, sad, and wonderful journey. It has really only been in the past month that I have actually started to feel better and more at peace with Gogo's loss, and that is all thanks to working with Imogen. I love and cherish P, and am so glad to have her in my life, but she is happiest when left to her own devices. She likes me well enough, I am sure, but she'd rather be left alone, and we haven't bonded in the strong and inseparable way that Gogo and I had. Imogen and I, on the other hand, bonded immediately and very hard, and we have our own dynamic that is very different from the one she shares with every other horse and human in her life. Something about working with her and the promise of giving her a brand new life is incredibly healing to the heart. Pangea has never known anything except for a life of cookies and love at best, and a big field with giant mounds of hay and no humans to bother her except for regular maintenance at worst. Imogen has known cruelty and pain, and to see her look at me with trust and love, and choose to seek me out over spending time at her haypile with her friends, is truly rewarding. This, more than anything, has kick started me onto the healing track. Life truly works in strange ways, and I'm not sure I'll ever be old or wise enough to understand them.

I'm still hurting. I'm still sad. I'm still not sure that I'll ever really be at peace with what happened. But I am grateful for every moment of the five years I had with her, and she will always be in my heart. 

A moment of silence now for Gogo, who took her last breath at 4:15pm last year.

There simply are not words for how badly she is missed. I love you, Gogomare.


Cut-N-Jump said...

OMG! I just looked at the clock on my cmputer as I am typing this. 4:15 on the money. Talk about getting chills!

I lost a mare the Day before Thanksgiving. Next month it will be 3 years. Still not a day goes by I do not think of her or miss her. Hugs.

Promise said...

I'm there with you. It's been 3 months since I lost Promise. I am at peace with my decision, but I'd give anything to be with her again, even if it meant I could only stand in the same space with her and look at her for a moment.

Niamh said...

I hardly understand how difficult this must be for, I read this recently and it made me think of every person I've known who have suffered the worst kind of loss (written by the woman who spent her entire career studying death, dying and the process of grief):

“The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of the depths. These persons have an appreciation, a sensitivity, and an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness, and a deep loving concern. Beautiful people do not just happen.”
Elisabet Kubler Ross

Huggles, Andrea + Gogo.

Anonymous said...

:( I'm sorry Andrea. I know you've heard that about 70 trillion times, but...I am. I hope that maybe writing about the one year mark might be some small form of release and help in the healing process.

WishIHadAHorsey said...

You moved beautifully together. Anyone who has truly bonded with an animal will understand what you are feeling. You are not alone {hugs}.

Katie said...

I must admit, I shed a little tear or two. She was such a beautiful mare and may she rest in peace now and forever.
This comes from the very bottom of my heart when I say, I am truly sorry for the loss of such a wonderful and inspirational mare.
Rest in peace Gogo and God bless you.

Janine said...

I lost my Friesian gelding 10/10/12 at 3yrs of age. He passed from a genetic aortic rupture. I understand, and I know life will never be the same:( I have another horse and I will have to somehow find the strength to go see him yet. I think I will try today and bring 400 thusand boxes of tissues. As seeing that pasture for the first time without my other horse in it will kill me again. Thanks for your story.xoxo

Val said...

I still think fondly of your adventures together with that "remember when" sort of feeling.

Loss is not something that you get over, whether it is a human or horse that is lost. You learn to live with it and that definitely changes you. You are finding your new true north.

Achieve1dream said...

Great analogy. Losing a horse does feel like surviving a war. It's the most difficult, most painful part of loving these animals. I'm so sorry you're still hurting, but I'm glad Imogen is helping you with the healing process. Thank you for sharing the video of Gogo. She truly was an amazing mare and it brings tears to my eyes to watch. I can't believe it's already been a year. It feel like just yesterday that I read that devastating news. Hang in there.

L.Williams said...

I know you don't blog here anymore, but I read this now old post and having lost my most beloved 5 months ago, this post rings inside me and I'm crying and I am comforted to know that I am changed and its okay and I'll continue to be sad and that' okay because it just shows how much he affected me and I commiserate and thank you.