One Year Later

I was disoriented and the sense of grief was so overwhelming that I felt like I couldn't breathe.  It was dark and I glanced at the clock.  11:07.  I slowly started getting my bearings.  I had gone to bed not that long ago, and I couldn't have been asleep for more than 45 minutes.  I'd been dreaming about Nimo.  Not a good dream, though.  I couldn't quite remember the details, but I was so upset that I couldn't stop crying, and I had to get out of bed to walk around.  It took me another two hours to be able to fall back asleep.

That was about three weeks ago.  At the time, I'd noticed that all the motivation I'd had for a couple of months to do some redecorating in our house had vanished.  I didn't want to do laundry or dishes or any other household chores even more than usual.  Work was irritating me more than usual, and my attitude was at best borderline combative.  In general, I felt overwhelmed and unable to focus.  But I couldn't figure out why - until I had that dream.

I know people who become quite depressed around the anniversary of a loved one's death.  And I've never understood it.  Why is the anniversary date such a significant date?  I still don't know, but subconsciously my brain must have been counting the days until the one-year anniversary of Nimo's death and as the date approached, I struggled more and more.

I had intended to write a post in remembrance of Nimo for today to commemorate the life of a well-loved and special horse.  But the more I thought about it, the more I couldn't wrap my head around what I should write.  What more could I say than what I had written in an entire blog about him?  Which pictures could possibly express how much he mattered to me and what a hole his absence has left in my life?

The reality is that just over a year after Nimo died, I still miss him as much as I did when he first died.  I have been doing the best I can to live my life and move on.  I can talk about him without crying.  And until recently I've been able to think of him without having a complete meltdown.  

But now, the grief feels so fresh again.  I find myself imagining how he would interact with Donut.  I think he would find her annoying but sort of like a big brother finds a little sister annoying.  I suspect he would vaguely remember that he used to be annoying too and cut her some slack.  I imagine that he would be her buddy for things like trailering and walking around the farm.

I would give just about anything to feel his nose check in with me as I was grooming him.  Or have the ease of leading him and knowing that there would be no random airs above the ground.  Or feel his shoulder under my hand.  I miss the quiet moments of connection.

I remind myself that it has been a year and that I should be in a different place now.  But much like working with a horse, I guess going through the grieving process takes the time it takes.  And mine is going to take a little bit longer...