Funny time of year, August. Winter is coming to an end (in our part of the world). The horses are shedding big time. It's often wet and cold, but Spring is on the way.
Endings. Beginnings. It can be brutal. But life goes on. That in itself I find a comfort.
We've had foals born during August, which has been lovely, but we've also farewelled much loved souls. Horses. Foals. Companion animals. Humans. Friends. Over the years. In August, 2012, I lost my first little canine soul mate. The following August, a close friend lost hers. My father died of early onset Alzheimers a week later. On that same day, within a matter of hours, Aleppo was born to Sophie, here. Healthy, feisty, perfect. That birth helped me get through that day, and I thanked Sophie for it. Aleppo helped us all get through that month. August.
Endings. Beginnings.
There has been a lot written about grief. Grief over death...and it can also be the death of close friendships, or relationships, or anything really. Time passes. Everything changes. Grief is a part of life. Sometimes a death makes the remaining life seem richer, more vibrant, less shallow. We make it what it is and I'd like it to be good. To be authentic.
Some horses ask to leave. So do some dogs, and some people. Some seem to need to stoically bear their suffering and live on until their body no longer allows it. That can be very hard to witness but I think - if we understand their wishes - we need to try and hold space and allow souls to pass as and when they wish to. Even how they wish to.
Horses grieve. I think many animals - and birds - do, in one way or another. Horses should be allowed to grieve. We've learned, over the years, that how a horse dies (whether illness, injection, bullet, accident)...does not seem to matter as much to the herd as long as they do not witness protracted suffering, and as long as they have a chance to come to terms with what's left, afterwards. We allow them to spend time with the body. We give them as long as they need before they walk away. We do not allow them to watch the body being moved afterwards, for burial. That disturbs them. Probably because they understand the absence of life. They don't understand movement afterwards. In the wild, mobs have been known to come back to remains months later, just like elephants, and spend time with the bones. Sometimes they nibble on them and perhaps that's just looking for minerals. Perhaps it's their way of remembering. We once watched a foal try to raise his mate by grabbing hold of the deceased foal's ear and lifting his head, over and over. The mother of the dead foal, standing over it, did not seem to mind. The mother of the live foal took him off soon afterwards. Grief, for animals, seems very fluid. Here, gone, here, gone. Or perhaps it simply walks with them during their day...horses and the herd seem to attempt not to dwell in grief. They flow, they seem to prefer not to get stuck in any one emotional state.
Grief is fluid for some humans too. A bit like mine for my father and lost, much loved pets, at this time of year. It comes and goes like the swell of the ocean on a quiet beach. Here, gone, here gone. I don't think it will ever entirely disappear, but then I wouldn't want it to. You learn to live with grief. You never really get over it.
I've talked to people and read a number of lovely things to help support me at this time of year. I've only noted one below, but it's a good one.
Keeping things as normal as possible, and not making any big, life-altering decisions during times of intense grief is always recommended. For the herd, horses grieve in their own way. It's not our way. They appear to rely strongly on consistency and calm, so that they have the time and space to adjust to any loss. Some horses will adjust faster than others, just like some humans. It will be what it will be. Overall, horses flow through their lives and can let go of grief and trauma a great deal faster than humans if given the right conditions in which to do so. Try very hard not to hold your remaining horse/s in your own grief.
Every one - human and animal - should have the choice to grieve in their own way. If they want space they will tell you. If they don't want you holding them in your distress or stress, they will tell you. Don't take it personally. The connection between species is deep, but we are different species. Different souls. Respect that, in yourself as well.
Endings, beginnings. There is comfort in it, some years.
"Grief, I’ve learned, is really love.
It’s all the love you want to give but cannot give.
The more you loved someone, the more you grieve.
All of that unspent love gathers up in the corners of your eyes and in that part of your chest
that gets empty and hollow feeling.
The happiness of love turns to sadness when unspent.
Grief is just love with no place to go.
It’s taken me seven years to realise that my grief is my way of telling the great vastness
that the love I have still resides here with me.
I will always grieve for my Mom because I will always love her.
It won’t stop. That’s how love goes."
~ Jamie Anderson, March 2014
all photos (c) KAW
