
One week tomorrow.
It feels like a lifetime since Gin ‘changed address.’
All of the emotions are present. All of them. Grief: as I process this dramatic shift in my reality. Disbelief: at the intensity and reality of our continued connection. Great joy: in feeling her spirit’s strength and freedom – and the connection to other departed friends she facilitates.
Many people have mentioned in their condolences how challenged they are by mortality. Death is often experienced as a great loss, heartbreaking, leaving a giant hole that can never be filled. It hasn’t been that way for me with Gin. And I wondered why. At the end of the day I think it has to do with how I prepared myself for this day.
I want to share a little bit about this in case it might be helpful for someone else faced with similar decisions…
When Gin reached her later twenties, I felt the dread start to build within me. All of my horses are aging, of course, we all are, and death is inevitable. Sometimes, I look around at all the horses here and feel there is no way I can possibly cope with all the end of life decisions looming. Those final calls that I will have to make for each and every one of them.
In 2021 Rio colicked. Somehow, when I saw him in the morning I just knew. He wasn’t going to make it. It felt like some horribly bad joke that Rio, who was still young and was just sound enough to start doing things together again, was going, when older, less sound horses were still happily carrying on. I didn’t know how to process that. I second guessed myself a thousand times at the vet clinic when she told me it wasn’t recoverable.
In the end, my good friend Lizzy helped me find my feet on the ground, find my breath through the panicky sobs, and find my connection to Rio down the barn aisle. She asked me questions about my options and each time I landed on letting him go, down the barn aisle, Rio would sigh audibly and my whole body open. Such simple and clear confirmation that it wasn’t just my decision, it was his as well.
Just a few months later, our beloved cat, Misty also decided it was time to go from this life. As cats so often do, she went from elderly but hale to very sick rather quickly. She laid in my lap as she took her last breath, all the tension from struggling to breathe draining from her body. Such a strange thing to feel so much peace as she lay draped across my lap.
Something about Misty and Rio passing so closely to one another after so many passings in the last few years just broke me. I wasn’t coping well, and I knew that there was no way I was strong enough to face more loss. And impending loss was all around me every day with horses over 25 at every turn. And so I got help. For the first time in my life, I sought help with my mental state.
Specifically, I told him that I was afraid I wasn’t going to be able to handle Gin’s passing. How I dreaded the day and how that dread was consuming me. Chandler has a daily practice of asking himself, in what ways am I not yet ready to die? And then he lives his life accordingly, so that he has less chance of regrets when the time comes. I took that question and began asking myself, every day, in what ways am I not yet ready for Gin to die? And then I took care of those things.
My biggest fear was that I would not make enough time for her. It’s easy to do when you have 16 equines to care for that are all aging. I tend to spend the bulk of my time with those in most need. And Gin truly has hardly ever been ill or lame. She was certainly never needy, and so it was easy to have time with her slip through the cracks. But last year, thanks that question and the realization that not spending time with her would be my biggest regret, I spent a lot of time with her. I made time for her no matter what.
My horses and I have a standing agreement. When they are ready to go, they let me know and I honor their decision. No questions asked. I am guessing I’m not alone in feeling the weight of making that final decision. How do I know if I’m getting the timing right? What if they aren’t ready? What if I wait too long and they suffer? I haven’t always felt like I got the timing right, but I have always felt that I did the best I could. I have learned not to second guess these things. That’s just torture. I also talk with Theresa or Kim or Diane or all three to confirm what I’m feeling.
So, when I went out Monday morning a week ago and saw Gin, I just knew. And because I had prepared myself well, I could accept it. It’s hard to explain, the beauty of that morning. There are always so many practical logistics involved in assisting a horse to depart this world. In this case it was important to me to plan ahead and have everything done such that I could simply be present with Gin and the aftermath of her passing, not knowing how it would impact me.
At one point I found myself looking at my phone to check the time and thinking – only one hour left with Gin. With that came a sense of panic and urgency. And then I realized, stop this. Stop thinking about time. This is not about time. This is about being fully present in each and every moment you have with her.
When I went to her, she was munching away on the hot bran mash I made her, with soaked oats, carrots and apples. The look on her face reminded me of Mom in her last days when we traveled to Lake Powell. She would stare off into the distance. Wistful is the word that always comes to mind. Or looking ahead to something I can’t see.
Her favorite thing was being groomed, so I spent time grooming her and talking to her about our life together and what she means to me. Every so often she would stop and turn her head such that her neck came into contact with my forehead and we would just stand together and breathe. The waves of love between us palpable. Such sweet moments that I will never forget.
The next morning, I woke up with a song in my head and heard Gin clearly saying this was the song that went with those moments we shared. She wanted me to listen to it and to really take in the lyrics. The words that kept floating through my mind and still do today – more than this, there is nothing. This moment, right here, right now. This moment is all there is. And how sweet those moments are. Thank you, Gin, for everything, again.
Roxy Music: More Than This
I could feel at the time
There was no way of knowing
Fallen leaves in the night
Who can say where they’re blowing
As free as the wind
And hopefully learning
Why the sea on the tide
Has no way of turning
More than this, there is nothing
More than this, tell me one thing
More than this, there is nothing
It was fun for a while
There was no way of knowing
Like dream in the night
Who can say where we’re going
No care in the world
Maybe I’m learning
Why the sea on the tide
Has no way of turning
More than this, you know there is nothing
More than this, tell me one thing
More than this, you know there is nothing
More than this
nothing
More than this
More than this
nothing
Writer/s: Bryan Ferry
Publisher: BMG Rights Management
Lyrics licensed and provided by LyricFind