2011: In Retrospect

It's amazing to think that this time last year, I had such high hopes for 2011. It was supposed to be the year that everything changed for the better. I was supposed to graduate college, commission, start my career, get married, among other, smaller things. To be fair, some of that did happen, and then some.

But a lot of it didn't. A lot of it went terribly wrong.

I sit here now reminiscing about the past year of my life. The beginning of it held so much promise. I started it off with a (presumably) healthy relationship and it was officially my last semester. Everything was nearly perfect, and then it all started falling apart.

It really began in March, when Andrew and I broke it off for what is and will remain the last time. There comes a point in time when what you thought was good for you and what actually is begin to diverge. The worst part is I think we just denied it and continued on like nothing had changed when, in fact, everything in the world had.

Then I found out I was failing a class and there were so many administrative issues that I was scared to death that I wouldn't be able to commission on time (or at all). There, of course, is a bright side to this one. Everything literally worked out at the last minute, and here I am, a college graduate and a 2nd Lieutenant. It doesn't mean it was or still is any less stressful.

I also remember the miracle of finding someone else to love--or maybe he found me. I remember how it felt like home and how I honestly thought that it could last forever. I had become so cynical about love, and here was someone who showed me it wasn't so bad, after all, or so I thought. To this day, I can't believe I could ever be so naive, but I was. I was so naive and trusting that I let it all decay into nothing, but not before it became something twisted and ugly. Not before it tore away everything.

That was in June. I still miss him in a lot of ways.

On to Florida in July... Everything looked like it might actually go right--and then the fall. I was held back two months before I could start my training. I have six months left now. That never seemed like such a huge amount of time as it does right now.

Don't get me wrong. It's not like I don't love my class. There's not a single one of them I wouldn't mind hanging out with. I don't dislike any of them. They're fun, and we like to joke around with each other. It's a nice break from reality. So no, it's not the training. It's not even the base. It's Florida. It's Panama City. It literally and figuratively stinks. The air is so thick you can't even breathe. The drivers are completely insane. Need I go on? Bottom line: I hate Florida. I had such high hopes for it, and it only disappointed.

In September, we lost Brownie, or Mr. B., the horse who taught me how to ride. He was like a brother, and there I was a thousand miles away. I don't think I've ever felt so helpless.

In October, we lost Cindy, our broodmare and love.

November came and went. I took a moment on the 11th to think of what could have been, but it'll never be. In a way, I'm happy. In a way, it hurts, too. Sometimes you have to give up the things you think matter in order to grow into the person you were always meant to be. I just wish I knew what that was supposed to be.

So here I sit in December, looking back. We lost Luke on Saturday. I don't know if we'll ever see him again. I doubt it more and more with each day that passes. That, along with everything else, makes me wonder if Christmas will be as cold as I feel inside. Will the New Year bring a wind of change, or will all of this continue? Realism dictates that it will be the latter, but I find myself hoping for something to pull me out of this ungodly pit of sorrow and regret.

I keep hoping the foundations will stop crumbling, and I won't have to be scared of falling through anymore.

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.