Wait for me to come home

Monday morning rolls around and I drug myself through morning barn chores to drive back up 65, this time to Indianapolis to visit a very good friend.

In hospice.

This person is the woman who bred Hampton, and basically sold him to me for pennies. She also bred my previous horse, T-Bone. She took care of my old Morgan, Sparkles, and made sure she delivered her two babies successfully. Before she was in the breeding business, she was a groom. She was a groom for myself and my sister when we had our Morgan, Doc. She taught me little tips and tricks of grooming and basic horse care.

She taught me more than any other single person in my life other than my parents. Barn management, horse care, grooming, breeding aspects, foaling, how to handle a crisis, handling stallions, how to halter break foals, how to catch loose foals, how to catch feral cats, how to work efficiently around a barn ... how to live your dream and be happy. She is like a second mother to me. She has seen me at my best, and seen me at my worst.

It's really difficult when you go visit someone in a situation such as hospice.

What do you say?

"Oh hi! How are you feeling? Oh, you feel like you are dying? Well, yeah, you probably will."
"Hi! How's the process of dying going?"

We had a lovely chat. I brought her a poster of all the horses I have had in my life that she has been a part of somehow. That has been all of them except one.

We caught up on gossip. Sometimes I would be talking and look over, and she had fallen asleep. I would just sit there until she woke back up again, picking right up where she left off. I will say that hospice is not stingy on the drugs.

A bunch of Hampton's brothers

They have her situation a little more stabilized and she's moving to a different health center this weekend. I am hoping this new place is a little more "home" like, rather than "hospital" like. It was eery at this place. It was so obvious that people were just waiting in their rooms. Waiting to die.

In a way, it's a real privilege to actually be able to say goodbye to someone. How many times do we get that opportunity? I don't think she's that dire yet, but you never know when things can deteriorate quickly. I am planning on visiting her maybe once a week. I feel like I should. I feel like it's my responsibility to offer support when she has been there for me during some pretty shitty times.

I'm sad because I really don't have any photos of her. She was never in front of the camera. She was always the one in the trenches, doing all the work. Sacrificing everything for the horses. We spent many long LONG nights waiting on mares to foal. Her composure in a crisis always impressed me. The way she just knew what to do when there was a red bag delivery, or a shoulder stuck. The way she could read horses (and all animals) was fascinating. She had a gift and at the same time was so humble.

I decided to buy him from her despite the fact that he loved to do this ....

I could go on and on, really, about her. She was my learning champion. A real mentor.

At the end of that night, it was just me, her, her son and the woman I used to work for (who owns Hampton's sire). It was like old times. Sitting there, watching episodes of Simon's Cat of all things. All of us laughing in this dark room. I realized how my life had changed since those days ... and in many ways it has not. My respect and admiration for her will never go away.

I will remember her always.