Memories

I would like to offer my condolences to all who have lost loved ones this past year. It is hard to lose a loved one, but their spirit and memories live on in our hearts and souls. This time of year always saddens me as I mark the anniversary of my dad’s death. My dad was my partner in the horse world. While he wasn’t a rider, a showman, or a trainer, he shared my love of our horses. He allowed his horse crazy daughter to convert part of his very nice machine shop into a horse stall. A few years later it was two stalls. The next year four stalls. At this point he built a divider wall about two-thirds across the shop. Two-thirds was for horses and the front one-third remained as a shop. He was a top rate groom who insisted our horses be brushed until they shined. His grooming standards far exceeded my teenage ambition. I heard on many occasions, “you go wash that horse again, and this time use some elbow grease.” Spring would find him in the barn diligently working on getting the winter hair coats ready as I would still be participating in school events and not getting to the barn as often as I should. He was the best truck and trailer operator. He could park a horse trailer anywhere. He could deal with a pick up full of teen-age girls, a trailer full of horses, and a blown pick up tire with the greatest of ease. He was my greatest show ring critic, always offering ways to improve and progress in my performance. He could be counted on to bring the greatest treats to my horse and me as we waited at the arena gait. And the nights that found me at the school until far too late, he could be found at home mucking stalls. He loved our horses, but foremost he loved his little girl. He also loved his grand kids. As I grew up and started my own family still with horses, my dad could still be found at the horse shows, but now in a little different role- Grandpa.

My fondest memory of him with our horses is of his six foot two frame standing with his arm around a horse’s neck with their head in his big hands against his chest. All our horses loved to strike this pose since it meant a scratch on the poll or the cheek. I could never get the same response that he could from the horse. Maybe it is that I simply am not tall enough to wrap my arms around.

When my dad died my horses’ manes captured many of my tears. Everyday activities in the barn flood my mind with memories of Dad. Every time I struggle to park the horse trailer at the Central States Fairgrounds I think of my dad’s driving skills and remember to use my rearview mirrors. As the mares have foals I remember him calling me in the house saying "you better get out here quick if you want to see this." As my allergies make my eyes turn red and me sneeze I remember all the hours he spent brushing my horses for me. I remember the pride that showed in his face as he watched his grandkids circle the arena in leadline.

It is these memories of our times with horses, our family, and our friends that are forever in our hearts that cannot be erased with death. While the love of horses brings us together, it is the love of each other that bonds us together.