I've been going to the barn most every day, riding Bestie, cleaning tack, mucking out her stall, doing the usual. I still have Dude's halter hanging in my tack cubby, along with a couple of happy birthday signs I'd made for him in the last few years. I definitely still think of him often, but that terrible heavy ache is for the most part gone. So I was pretty surprised by my reaction last weekend when I got to the barn and saw that a new wooden sign for the horse that's now in Dude's old stall had gone up over the door.
For the last month and a half that the horse, Rio, has been in there, he's had a paper sign with his name written on it tacked over Dude's old stall sign. That bothered me for a bit, but I got used to it. I kind of liked seeing Dude's name peeking out when the paper would flap in the breeze. It seemed very Dude-ish, in keeping with his unretiring, "hello what about me" personality.
But when I saw Rio's new sign, it really hit me again that Dude's gone. Hit me like tears welled up. Gone gone gone. No sign. No tangible, visible evidence of his presence. I think having Rio's paper sign over Dude's wooden sign made me feel that there was still a little bit of Dude hanging about the barn. Maybe it's crazy, but I think that's what it meant to me. That Rio was the temporary one. That Dude couldn't be replaced.
Rio's new sign is lovely - the colors evoke carnival in Brazil and the design is really fun. Boarder Bev painted it. When I ran into her a couple days later, I complimented her on it and mentioned my reaction. She was sort of matter of fact, saying something like "part of moving on." Seems that moving on has an awful lot of parts.
