I was told the other day by a "horse professional" (and I will leave it at that cause whom said it isn't as important as the fact that it was said) that the difference between this person and myself was simple; they were practical and I was impractical. It was said as I was explaining what happened to Patch and added how the grief for this horse had brought me to my knees. That's when the "impractical vs. practical" comment was made. I choose not to voice my opinion right then or frankly to this person; it would do me no good.
I woke this morning and my very first thought was about Patch. I had never ever considered the possibility of Patch leaving. It quite honestly never occurred to me, or perhaps "unheard of" would better describe my feelings surrounding the possibility. It still seems unreal to me. I have always known that there was a possibility of Katie going to live with someone else, it was pretty much the plan to find Katie that special little girl that could jump with Katie. With Tex, I would love to think that Texas will never find another home but "technically" speaking it is always a possibility. When Patch came here he was to never ever without a doubt never go anywhere else for the rest of his days; those days should have lasted so much longer that his leaving when he did...it just never entered my mind as a possibility. Perhaps in that sense I was "impractical", I don't believe my grief to be impractical.
Patch was an incredible soul, he was strong, brave, proud, and wise. I swear that horse could look at me and say more then half the people I know. He told on Texas a LOT and I'm serious. Tex thinks he is the king of all that is Hidden Springs, we all let him, however once in while he needs to be reminded that his Crown is a privilege not a right. Patch would seriously look to Tex, look to me, look to Tex and look to me until I did something about whatever Tex would not let Patch have (typically food related). When there were apples involved Patch knew to walk up to the top with a simple point from me in that direction; again Tex... He would come to the front door and stand there and patiently wait for me to notice him so he could be given a carrot or an apple and if all was right with the world a peppermint. I watched him stand there and watch me eat dinner at the kitchen island, waiting patiently. He got a treat afterward for his patience alone. I've seen him walk to the truck and point to the bed when he knew oats were in there, I've seen him sneak a bite of hay that was on the truck and look right at you like "ummm yes well you left it there" and all but smile. He liked one stall in the barn (we have three). If you put him in that stall he pooped in the back and kept the front totally clean. If you put him Anywhere else, he made a complete utter mess of things. If you were sitting in the driveway he would walk up and literally stand next to your chair for as long as he could, or Tex came around. He didn't really "need" anything but to be next to you, so he'd just stand there. He'd chase Leo within an inch of his little behind, backing off when he got too close. He discovered potato chips and thought he'd found horsey heaven. He protested every time he saw his blanket in a way that reminded me of an old man being told he had to wear a hearing aid, crotchety but so damned lovable you hugged them anyway. He pinned his ears and swung his head around to stare every time I fussed over his tail but after a minute his head was down and he was either eating or drifting half asleep.
He came here so passive, I don't think he'd have protested anything. He came here pretty sore and pretty unhealthy. I got to watch him find himself and his voice again, I am sure there are some out there that would claim that "impractical" however I was damned proud of him. In my world of rainbows and unicorns we all deserve a voice and we all deserve a place in which that voice can be heard without fear. Patch had that here, he was able to find that again, and I got to love him through it. There is really no greater honor.
Yes I sat with a "dead horse" covered in a tarp, shivering and talking to the wind. Yes I wanted to curl up and never wake up when he died. No I didn't understand it. Yes I blamed myself and talked myself down a million times since last Tuesday. Yes I slept with his tail and yes it is on my night stand and I smell it before bed and did again this morning when I woke and remembered that he is still gone. I cried this morning when I went to deliver breakfast and didn't hear his nicker; did I collapse? No. Did I cry a little? Yes. Will I continue to hurt from his loss? Yes. Will I eventually look back at pictures and not find a tear in my eye? Yes etc etc etc.
Is honoring the love we shared, and yes it was shared, by allowing myself to grieve that impractical? No, I think not. Is it impractical to believe, with all my heart, that the grief has nothing to do with the number of legs Patch had or the language he spoke and everything to do with who he was? To a lot I suppose so. Patch, I am sure would disagree; he knew who he was and he knew who I was. He didn't care that I couldn't gallop anymore then I cared that he couldn't open his own bag of oats. There was love, a lot of it. Without Patch there is a hole; I'm not so impractical as to believe it will remain gaping forever. I am however impractical enough to honor our love by grieving in whatever way I need. I think he'd be proud of me for that.
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