Ma Bonne Aimee

Aimee,

It’s been a long couple days.  I knew when you went down that the odds were against you.  I knew that the time to say goodbye was getting closer and closer.  What I didn’t know was how hard you would fight it.  When you were down the first night I still held out hope that you would rally and get up… after all you had done that before.  But when you didn’t, I knew.

I cried so much then, cried until your face was wet, but you didn’t seem to mind.  Yesterday you could no longer sit up, but every time I came out to see you, you raised your head as high as you could and neighed your biggest neigh.  And I cried every time.

And then I had no tears left and you seemed to know and you became very quiet and very peaceful and I thought you would drift off peacefully.  We even told the vet that we thought you would pass before he was able to make the hour’s drive out here so he didn’t come.

But I underestimated you, my good friend.  You decided not to go softly into that goodnight.  You fought, with your indomitable spirit.  This morning you were bright and alert, but the reality of your situation was too great.  You were dying, but you weren’t willing to just give up.

So M called the vet and this morning he came out first thing.  Unlike Spring and Tanna who just drifted off with a sigh, you fought with eyes blazing and nostrils flaring.  And then it was over.

You died.

And while I knew it was going to happen there’s still a huge horse shaped hole in my heart as I think about the farm without you.  Who’ll keep Alise in line?  Who’ll teach Fantine how to be a horse?  

Ahhh big Aimee girl, I miss you so much.

 

4 thoughts on “Ma Bonne Aimee

  1. paintsmh

    I just came over from Mommy Mommy Land and was reading through your posts. The picture of your horse darned near made me cry. She looks so much like my mothers old Morgan cross that we lost almost 7 years ago that I felt my heart breaking all over again. So very very sorry for your loss. There is nothing harder than losing a beloved equine. I lost my gelding last fall and it is still more painful than I would like.

    Like

  2. Pingback: 2 years later… «

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