Goodbye, My Friend

Last week, I said goodbye to a dear friend of mine. Well, I wasn’t actually there, so I technically didn’t say goodbye.

His name was Tekoa Sur, (he was a registered Arabian horse) but the previous owners called him “Grey.” I didn’t think that was such a nice name, so I renamed him Gershwin. Although, I ended up calling him Grey most of the time anyway (especially when he was in trouble). This is probably the most sadness I’ve felt over an animal since I was a child. I sometimes get sad when a beloved pet dies, but I don’t cry, and I usually understand that it was just an animal. It doesn’t have a soul. This time, it’s different. We’d been through a lot together.

I was like a lot of little girls, and was absolutely enthralled with horses for as far back as I can remember. And, although I grew up on a very small ranch, our focus was cattle. We didn’t have enough space to need the help of a horse, and my dad never cared much for the creatures anyway. I, on the other hand, was in love with ever y horse I ever saw. So, I begged and pleaded for one. I wished on every star, every birthday candle, and any other occasion that called for wishing that I could have a horse. I prayed for a horse (although I always envisioned “wishes” as a prayer to God anyway). Finally, when I was 16, I bought a horse. My dad had a friend who made me a deal. I used my savings for a down payment, and made monthly payments. It took every bit of money I made, because my only job was as church pianist (and I refused to take much pay, because I was far from professional). I couldn’t care less about buying a car. I was finally getting that horse I had wanted since the day I was born, probably…I don’t actually recall the day I was born, but I’m sure it was soon thereafter.

He was a beautiful creature, albeit a little spirited and pretty stubborn. I loved to watch him run or graze in the pasture. When I would drive by him on my way down the driveway, I would stop and love on him. And, to ride him, took all my cares away. That horse could MOVE. When he got up to a full gallop, it was such a smooth ride. I could’ve sworn his feet never touched the ground. He was an amazing picture of God’s creation.

And, he was my friend. It was a time when I was drifting away from all of my friends (their lives were taking turns I refused to take), and the one good friend I had moved across the country. When I had boy troubles, I talked to the horse. When my grandpa (another very close friend) died, I talked to the horse. When my Dad’s health was deteriorating, I talked to the horse. He was there to rub his head against me, or carry me away from my worries.