Days of shadow and light

By Gayle Carline
Horse Lover and Human Being

This year has not gotten off to a completely grand start. People on this blog have suffered loss. Friends of mine have lost mothers, dads, siblings. I've attended a few memorial services, and no doubt, will attend more. Just a couple of days ago, my friend's mother passed away. This week, I had to euthanize our 18-year-old kitty. 

A cat is not to be equated with human life, but the cumulative effects of so much loss around me have me in quite a funk.

People try to be helpful. As in anything, some are awkward, and some are good at it. I think the ones who are good at it, who know how to listen and not place expectations on our grief, give us room to be patient with the awkward ones. 

By the way, I think I've been one of the awkward ones from time to time. My apologies.

I think losing a loved one is like being on a hike in the sunshine and suddenly entering a forest. It's dark and shadowy and cold, but you stay on the path. At some point, you start seeing patches of light. As the days go by, you might be more in the shadows or more in the light, and you keep walking the path, putting one foot in front of the other, until you get to the place where the sun shines most of the time, and there are a few trees to offer shade. And the shade starts to feel comforting, not cold.

The length of the path and the size of the forest is unique to everyone.

One ray of sunshine, for me, is to see life in all its glory. It reminds me that the world still turns and babies are born and flowers bloom. I'll leave you all today with a couple of videos that make me smile, even if it's only for a moment.

First, a Paso Fino baby, gaiting. 




Is there anything else that cute?

And, of course, this year's Super Bowl Budweiser commercial. Yes, it's designed to manipulate your feelings. 




It works.

Take care of yourselves, and don't worry about how long you need to walk in the forest. People who love you will always be waiting for you in the sunshine.