I don’t want to have to say this. It’s fundamentally personal and private. My love for him was my own, I and no one else could feel it. My grief for his loss is my own, I and no one else can feel it. My grief and my love are held above and away, as the sacred should be.
But I have to say something. People will ask about him. People will notice the absence of pictures and posts about my beloved horse. People will ask to visit or ride. Some of you knew him and care for him.
I cannot believe this is real. It has not fully sunk in yet. Even when I saw him lying lifeless on the ground, it did not seem real. He’s going to wake up, right? He’s going to be waiting for me next time I’m out, and lovingly rub his head against me as he always does, right?
I was not there to say bye. I was not there to see him leave. To kiss his face and nose. To kiss him near one eye, then the other, then his nose, as I always do. To look him in those deep, loving eyes of his. They were warm and comforting and welcoming. I wish I could have been there to offer him the same in return as he left. But Death is cold and uncaring.
If I’d have known what was going to happen, I’d have let him go for a few romps in the woods these past two weeks. I’d have ridden him out for three hours in the serenity of the woods, and taken him out to some fields lush with grass and weeds to graze to his heart’s content, to let him have some last deserved joys in this world.
And I wanted to get him a better life. A bigger pasture to be in. Some friends to run around with. A girl friend.
But now he, and my soul, are cold.
I go out there every day for an hour or two to take care of him: clean his stall, clean his turn-out, fill his water buckets, give him the alfalfa that he so loves. I was out yesterday from around 1:30 till 3:00.
He was fine. He ate grass. He ate alfalfa. He walked around. He ran eagerly toward a mare. He was alert and active. I did not notice anything wrong or unusual, nor have I for weeks. I hugged him. I kissed him.
Then, at 9:21, I received a phone call from the guy who owns the place where I kept Heiric. He said Heiric was lying on the ground, not moving.
I turned off a movie, threw what remained of dinner on the cold stovetop, changed clothes, ran to my truck, and drove fast. I don’t know how or why Death struck. Death left no signs, but only, around 8:00 PM, took a loved one from me. Suddenly. Irretrievably.
Life is forever changed.
Michael,
I’m so sorry to hear of Heiric’s passing. I dearly remember running into you 2 on the trails at Callegari. He was drop dead gorgeous and such a gentleman!!! My sincerest condolences!
Birgitta
Thank you, Birgitta. Much appreciated in this time of loss and mourning and helplessness.
You know how it goes: http://goldams.com/loss/
We make it through losses before. And people out there have had to endure much worse.
But, yeah, we’d talk at C. Heiric and I enjoyed conversations and horse talk with you. You have a nice “drawl” and a relaxed, patient manner. 🙂
Wishing you, yours, and your horses the best and “happy trails.”
May all you love live a long, full life to its last dying days.
HEIRIC
I first met Heiric several years ago. We farrier’s trim mostly geldings or mares. Stallions are the occasional exception. Most of the stallions I had trimmed prior to Heiric were difficult unruly sorts who made you never want to trim a stallion again.
Heiric was spirited no doubt. But he was different. Very different.
You saw him thinking when you gazed into his eye
It glowed like the fire in the sky.
His eyes always said ‘hello’ and held no Disdain for this Farrier I know.
He fidgeted as mares walked by
And sometimes caused me to cast a weary eye.
But offered his feet nicely for the work to be done
Tho’ eager he was to run in the sun.
When I got to his hinds careful I was
For he was always eager to show he’s a stud.
As time went on we quickly made amends
And I realized he thought me a friend.
Now he’s gone but runs free
The wind in his mane running carelessly.
~Richard Zewe
Thank you, Richard, thank you. That is beautiful. I wish I could write poetry like that. You made me cry, damn you! And I mean that respectfully, not insultingly. Thank you.
Thank you for all you did to make Bey Heiric’s life better and happier. You are an awesome farrier who did good for my horse and who I always enjoyed talking to. Caring, considerate, conscientious, detailed, and patient.
May all you love live a long, full life to its last dying days.
I’m so sorry, Michael. I know it hurts not to have been with him. I hope he makes his presence felt soon and that it brings you comfort.
Colleen
(Nancy’s mom)
Thanks, Colleen. You know horses, you know how much they mean to us.
Yeah, like coming home from a tutoring session I have every Saturday afternoon, I “knew” I was going to take care of Heiric. The sun is in the sky, gravity is keeping us on earth, Bey Heiric is waiting for me to visit, clean his home, give him his alfalfa, and spend time with him, right? Because, if not, the world is turned upside down.
Your condolences are much appreciated.
Much appreciated. Heiric and I always enjoyed your presence and conversation.
Hugs to Nancy.
May all you love live a long, full life to its last dying days.
I’m so sorry about Heiric, Michael. He was a mainstay out at Callegari. It was unusual for me to spend an afternoon doing vet work out there and not see the two of you, and it won’t feel right next time I’m there. My thoughts are with you. RIP Heiric.
~ Bonner Wimberly
Thanks, Dr. Bonner. Thank you for all you did for Bey Heiric. Much appreciated. Your help through all the routine checkups and emergency calls was invaluable. Thank you for helping Heiric have a good life.
May all you love live a long, full life to its last dying days.
Michael,
Words can never express the sorrow felt when your Soul mate leaves this world.
I know and feel your pain. Heiric was a special
and will always be in your ❤️.
Hold on to your memory’s and I hope one
day you will find another horse with his spirit.
Thank you, Gina. Yes, it is hard. We never know who we will love in life: special people and animals come into our lives. We are fortunate for that.
Sorry you will have to feel this, too, but without making it possible by loving, life would not be worth living.
May all you love live a long, full life to its last dying days.
Hello Michael,
I just read our common fb friend Rachel Mare’s post about you loss. I read your touching words and feel deeply sorry for your loss. Heiric looks so strong and beautiful – I will remember these images for a very long time.
Take care.
Rajesh: thank you. I appreciate your thoughts and feelings.
Yeah, if you are reaching out like this, you understand. Loving things like this is what makes life worth living.
If you want, watch some touching, amusing, fascinating, insightful video clips of Heiric (all really short: 15 or 30 seconds; one or two one minute long):
https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLCfm_0FgUxCk_-6zyp5gu-Dp5JKtq6yNW
The first eleven, from “Itancan” through “RIP 2,” are the telling, important ones. There are more, too. I hope they let you see some of the inner world of horses, and the relationship between horse and man — all which you might already know — and maybe some spark or experience will give you some new insight or fascination into friend, family, or beloved animal. We often learn by connecting idea to idea, in places where we did not expect to find connections.
May all you love — and may that number be all that can fit in your finite life — live a long, full, rich life to its last dying days.
Rajesh:
And, if you are interested, here are some tributes and condolences from people who knew me and Bey Heiric: http://goldams.com/tributes-to-bey-heiric/
Bey Heiric’s farrier, a barefoot trimmer, wrote a poem about him: http://goldams.com/heiric-by-richard-zewe/
Thanks, again. Love deeply, while you can.