Eulogy

I've been told it's like falling asleep--that it eases the suffering and allows the dying to transition to a better place where pain doesn't exist. I choose to believe that. Anything less would be, in my mind, unacceptable to ponder.

I lost a friend this week. His name was Brownie, but most of is who knew him well just called him Mr. B. He was, in fact, the best friend I've ever had. He taught me to ride. He took care of me when I was his charge for just shy of twenty years. I remember the day we met. It's one of my earliest memories. He was big and brown and I fell in love immediately. I know my mother did, too. The best thing about it all was that I know he loved both of us back unconditionally. I know he would have done anything for us that was within his power, and he proved that time and time again throughout the years. And now, he's gone forever.

Even though you know that death will happen eventually, it still hurts when it does. Those people you love the most will eventually transcend this life to another, leaving family and friends behind to mourn. Yes, he was a person to me. There was never a question of that, and there never will be. It's just like losing a family member because that's what he was. My only wish is that I could have been there to say goodbye. Now, I'll never have that chance. Not really.

It's been just over three days now since he passed, and it's getting easier, I guess. I know that the next time I go home and he's not there, it'll be like I'm going through it all over again, but for now, I'm fine. If I weren't I wouldn't be here now--writing this. It still hurts, of course, but the sobs have been replaced with a more gentle stream of tears when I think about him. I'm reminded of a song, to be honest, except this time instead of going hunting with a dog, I'd be grooming him up and getting ready to go for a ride one more time. He'd be searching for treats at every opportunity, and he eventually would win out and get one. Then we'd go exploring and have so much fun. Then I'd turn him loose again and watch him join Zephyr and Cricket and all the other horses who have gone before him. And I'd smile because that's what he could always do is make me smile.

Mr. B. left a mark that will be with me for the rest of my life, and I'm better for it. He and I grew up (or in his case, older) together, and I can honestly say it was a blast. My life would not be the same without him, and I will always be thankful for the years he spent in this family of misfits I like to call my own. He will certainly not be forgotten.

Rest in peace, my dear friend.