Truthful Tuesday

Ok, I lied. I'm not done talking about Jampy. And yes I still owe him a story, but freaking blogger, my computer, and the cloud are just being ridiculous. His story needs to be illustrated, so until I work that out, it's a post in progress. Anyway, let's talk more about Jampy, feelings, and what happened to him "after".
All of last week, pretty much every time I was alone in my car (I really don't know the relevance of being in the car, but that's where it kept happening) my thoughts would drift to Friday, April 5th and visions of "it" happening. Being with your horse at the end is rough guys. I'd do it again in a second, but it's hard. And it stays with you.
But this past Saturday, Jampy came home to me, and that seems to have brought some closure. I'm still super sad, and I still miss him tons, but I've been able to drive myself to and from work and the barn without crying my eyes out. So that's a pretty big step. Which isn't to say that I didn't get a little teary when I walked by the peanut aisle at the grocery store last night and didn't need to stop for Jampy's only allowed snack. Whatever, it's totally normal to get weepy in the grocery store, no?

I hope this doesn't creep you guys out...

 But let's back track a little to the part where I mentioned Jampy coming home. I meant his ashes, not his ghost coming back for a visit. I don't think people talk about what happens to our best equine friends after they're gone, but it's something we all should think and know about. Because sadly, most of us will have to figure that out at some point.
It's actually not legal in the state of CT to bury a horse on your property. Everyone does it, but technically, it's not allowed. I have the world's nosiest and pain in the assiest neighbor, so I would not be able to pull off such a feat. Horse cremation is not a new or uncommon concept, but in most places, it's kind of extra upsetting because, and there's no way to put this nicely, horses don't fit in most cremation ovens. So they have to take unsettling measure to make that happen.
There's a wonderful pair of friends in my area who realized this was a problem for so many horse lovers when they found themselves in need of such a service. And they solved the problem and created a thriving business to help. CT Horse Cremation is a family run operation that happens to be one town over from me. When I tell you guys these are the nicest people I've ever met, I'm not exaggerating. My vet was kind enough to make the call for me, and they met the vet at my house for "the thing". There are two men, old friends who come out for this part, and they help during the worst part (I'll leave it at that) and afterward they give you all the time you may need, and are very careful and respectful when removing your friend. They even braided and cut his tail for me when I couldn't do it myself.
When everything is all done, about three days later, the wife (and co-owner) calls to set up an appointment to bring your friend home. She delivers every one in person, and wants to hear all about your horse (if you wish to talk about it) and will even look at photos. It's not rushed, and everything is done with much respect.
You have a choice to get the ashes back just in velvet pouches if you wish to bury or scatter them, or you can opt for the somewhat pricier wooden urn. Since I haven't figured out what I'm going to do, I went with the urn. It's beautiful, and if you so desired you could certainly just keep that on display somewhere. I'm probably going to bury it all, but I just need to figure that out. Inside the urn, the ashes are packed in the velvet pouches, and along with that you get your horse's shoes back. They are shined and beautiful.

Really hope you all don't think this is totally creepy...

And there's a small card on the inside with your name, your horse's name, and the date he or she passed. It's really thoughtfully done. There's some extra room, and I have his halter placed in there for now too.

So that's my truth today. Losing a horse is fucking hard, but there are wonderful people out there to help things go as smoothly as possible. And eventually, I bet I'll be able to walk by the peanuts at the grocery store without crying. But not yet.