Over the past few days, I have been deep cleaning the horse stalls in the barn one by one. This unpleasant physical task was way overdue by your standard; and the stalls were full of old sodden hay and sand which had worked its way under the edges of the stall mats making for uneven footing for the horses. Every time I went down to the barn, I would think how unhappy you would be with me about this. So, on the long New Year holiday weekend, I decided to start working on them one at a time.
I did the back two stalls first, which have been empty since Stetson left a few months ago. Those were mainly full of sand and dirt and not so much hay; so, I used the large snow shovel to scrape out the material and fill in the low areas in the adjacent runout areas.
After finishing the back two stalls, I worked on Sweetbriar’s and Jake’s stalls next. They were thick with accumulated uneaten hay that had to be removed to get down to the sand and dirt. I used the pitchfork and wheelbarrow to collect and relocate the sodden hay to the front stall temporarily - until I can decide what to do with it. The rest of the job was similar to the other stalls to clean out the sand and dirt, pick up the mats and clean the floor and replace the mats.
Picking up and moving the heavy stall mats is the worst part of this job! But it must be done to get to the sand that migrates and accumulates under the edges and causes lumps and to clean and dry out the concrete floor under the mats.
I skipped one step that you usually insisted on: pressure washing the mats. But that job is just too much for me to do alone without hurting my back! In the past, you would have hired a couple of teenaged boys to do this under your watchful supervision. Back then, I resented paying others for doing something I could do. But now, I realize that this was an example of you, not just being practical, but also being concerned for me by trying to lighten my load.
So how, you may ask, does cleaning the horse stalls in the barn over a year after your death relate to grief? I think there are several layers to the response to that question. First, I will always feel your presence and hear your voice in the barn and with anything having to do with the horses. So, in a sense, the time and effort spent cleaning the stalls is time spent with you.
Secondly, it is yet another affirmation of one of the central tenets of grief: “life goes on”. Even though you are gone, the horses (and each of us) continue to go through their daily routines: coming in to their stalls in the mornings and going out to the pastures at night. The daily traffic in and out of the stalls results in the incremental accumulation of uneaten hay, dropped feed, waste, and water. In the same way, we go through the motions of our daily existence without you, at first, reluctantly, because we have no other choice; but, with time, it does get easier. However, there is a price. Every once in a while, we have to stop and clear out the accumulated droppings of sadness, anger, and loneliness that build up in our hearts to restore our footing.
So, once again, a simple unremarkable activity like cleaning the horse stalls brings me back to you and a reflection on grief and life on the other side of loss. Some days I think I may be done writing on this topic, but the words seem to keep coming, so perhaps I’m not done quite yet.