My Incredible Journey - Part 6

It ultimately took weeks before I would feel even remotely like myself again. But, it didn't take long before I was back at the barn. In fact, I went back the weekend following Taco's death. I told myself that it would be hard no matter what, so waiting before going back wasn't going to help or change things.

I continued riding and grooming the other two horses there for a few months. It was nice, and I was glad to have them in my life, but things would never be the same. Once again, just as it was at the beginning of this whole journey, I found myself without a horse of my own. I loved both of these horses very much, but they weren't mine. It was impossible for my partnership with them to grow as strong as the one I had with Taco.

At the very beginning of July of that year, I was told that I was no longer welcome there. It was through no fault of my own - to summarize, the two barn owners, who were romantically involved, were in the midst of ongoing disputes, which had been brewing for months and eventually reached a climax. I became a pawn, one person kicking me out to get the other one upset (I was the only one who came there on a regular basis - the other two horses belonged to the barn owners). I accepted my fate as best as any kid could, and said my goodbyes to the place where I spent so much of my youth, knowing I'd never return. I tried riding at another stable a few months later, but never felt that special connection again and gave it up after just a couple of lessons.

Taco's ashes sit in a wooden box in my room. If there was anything to be glad about, it was that he now really was mine, and would stay with me forever. His halter lies in a drawer under my bed, and those locks of hair that were clipped off of him the day before he died are in my desk. His name plate that used to hang above his stall is stored in my basement. These mementos and the dozens of pictures I took of him are the only physical items left from what was something that used to encompass my existence.

It's easy for me to still feel sad about all that I had and all that I lost. I think about it a lot, especially around this time of year. Every birthday is a silent reminder, too, of that day when I turned eleven years old and got the gift of his friendship. What makes it worse is that I know there will never be any horse - or animal - in my life quite like him. But, at the same time, I know I must be thankful for the fact that I got to spend so much time with him in the first place. To have lived to forty is an impressive feat for a horse. And, although I still have those nagging thoughts that wonder about what would have been if the vet had chosen a more aggressive treatment approach, I know deep down inside that our time together could not have been much longer, anyway.

Taco taught me so many lessons in those six years I spent with him. For one, he showed me that friends can come at the most unexpected times, in the most unexpected places. He taught me about what it meant to be motivated, to be dedicated to something that you find important. He taught me to never take for granted life's simple pleasures. At death, he showed me that even the most horrible of endings cannot take away from what was a magical, storybook friendship. I am a different person - a better person - for having known Taco. He has had a profound impact on my life.

I guess it's those themes that I wanted to convey to you all by retelling this story. That when you love, you should love deeply. That when you make a decision, even if no one else agrees with you, what matters most is that you yourself believe that what you did was right. That when do you something, you must do it to the very best of your ability. And that when you come along someone who needs your help, you just might be able to change both their life and your own with a little bit of time and effort.

Taco, where ever you are, I hope it goes without saying that I love you with all my heart. Thank you for everything that you did for me. It was an honor to have been by your side, an experience that I will never forget as long as I live. No matter where my life takes me, my heart will always be in the aisles of that old barn, in the middle of that green paddock, in the places where I was with you.

Here marks the end of one of the most heartfelt things I've ever written. In telling this story, I feel like Taco came back to life for a little while, in a spiritual sense. Thank you for reading along and making this experience possible for me.