March 2nd, 10:03pm: In my own grief it never occurred to me that some may not have heard of the Rainbow Bridge. You may find comfort in learning about it. Having seen wonders and miracles, and felt both animals and people’s spirits myself – I have no doubt at all there is such a place. I’m sorry I forgot to tell you about it and I hope it helps you as you grieve with us about Windchill: The Rainbow Bridge
March 2nd, 9:01pm: While cleaning Windchill’s stall we found a notebook. In it was a letter he had ‘dictated’ to one of his caregivers. It was a note he wanted to send to all of the children who had written him:
March 2nd, 7:25pm: I realized that with Windchill gone, the only part of the world that kept me sane was here. I could talk to all of you and you cared enough to talk back – in calls, in prayers, in emails and posts. I went from the darkness late at night, and at times bitter cold to find warmth here for a brief time before going back out. In the emptiness left behind I find I return here to be with whoever is still here listening.
We’re finally back after the long drive to bring Windchill for cremation. TWO flat tires on the trailer – one on the freeway there, and one on the spare we replaced it with upon arrival – so the trailer’s still there. I have to find tires that fit it and go back to pick it up, along with Windchill’s ashes on Thursday. I did find some humor while changing the tire – I realized in Windchill’s wonderfully mischievous way he left another quandary – he died on February 29th: Do we commemorate him every four years? Do we remember him February 28th or on March 1st? I had to laugh because I actually think he was bright enough to have thought about that and took the answer with him. The answer is we’ll remember him daily, there isn’t any other way for those of us blessed enough to have been with him for the short time we had. The amazing thing about not only blowing one tire – but two – is that the roads on the return ride were so icy from the falling rain and dropping temperatures that I lost control of the truck once. Had we had the trailer with I am afraid to think of what would’ve happened. Thanks Windchill.
I don’t remember much of the last 3 weeks. Night and day had very little meaning anymore as days blended into nights which were confused by short lapses of bits of sleep. I rarely knew the date as many of you can attest by my goofing it up on here so many times. Attempts to go to work were generally cut short by the need to be here and what time I spent at my office I have to hope I accomplished something, I honestly don’t recall because the time was spent worrying about getting home to be with Windchill.
The time we ‘lost’ – what would normally pass as our lives: sleep, up to let horses out and make sure the herd’s okay, go to work long hours, come home to bring the herd in, feed, grain and water various big and little beings…crash in a chair for a quick bite to eat and relax…became hyper contracted. None of those things went away – they were fit in quicker or accomplished when volunteers could sit with Windchill while we fired up the tractor to move hay bales out to various pastures or moved grain, etc. As more volunteers arrived during the day, they began to help with chores such as the daily stall cleanings and bringing water into the barn which helped immensely. The animals all seemed to understand the need to focus this energy. Walker was Windchill’s pal, bringing him his precious toys he normally doesn’t share and sleeping with him at night. Olivia the cat slept on him, her body helping warm his. The ‘moms’ nickered to him throughout the day and at night he had his half-sisters at each side of his stall. Both of us lost weight, at last count Kathi lost 10 lbs and I had lost 11. I think I could afford to though, so thanks Windchill… But the cost of our lost sleep and the toll on our bodies was a very, very small price to pay for what we wanted to give to Windchill – belief in humans again, and the knowledge that he could be loved. And for that small investment of our lives – Windchill gave us back so much more. While our lives will inevitably return to some level of whatever ‘normal’ will become for Raindance – they will never be the same. Windchill’s contagious spirit, his quiet resolve and determination – that candle of hope that he never, ever let go out inside him – is forever lit in us. I can honestly say he humbled me to a degree it’s hard to put into words. You had to see his bright eyes to understand. There’s a photographer who has come the closest to capturing it that I hope we can share with you soon – unfortunately so many have been taking images and turning them into things they weren’t intended that I won’t post more until I know we have her permission out of respect for her work. You know the sad thing – (like there hasn’t been enough in everything else – we finally put Kisses back in the stall she had given up for Windchill tonight. I think that was probably good. I kept seeing him laying there pushing himself around with his legs…) – Kathi fell asleep the night Windchill died sitting on the floor sorting through alfalfa we had gotten for him and the box and the bucket and the alfalfa still sit on the living room floor.
I would like to say thanks to Jim and Midwest Cremation Services who graciously offered to remain on call both yesterday (we determined we were in no shape to drive yesterday) and again today and was ready to receive Windchill when we got there. Never having gone through this before, I wasn’t sure what to expect. The facilities were sparkling. Jim had special equipment for getting Windchill out of the trailer and onto the ground where I removed his halter to bring home. He was carefully moved to the cremation equipment which itself was sparkling clean. It’s so respectful that I was truly impressed.
March 2nd, 7:00am: After finding that Windchill had passed away, I spent that entire night up searching the internet, reading everything I could find on horse starvation, and starvation in general. My heart hurt so badly that my eyes blur now as I think about the little guy. Animal lovers will understand. And you know the feeling if you have kids in our life in some fashion. They become a part of you, they’re innocent, they love unconditionally and expect so little in return that you want to protect them, hold them close. I searched for a reason to blame me. I guess in anguish I needed to find something we did wrong, something we could’ve done that was a wonder miracle cure. 6 or 7 hours of reading til my eyes were raw and the answers kept coming up the same. It all reinforced the overwhelming odds stacked against him and what a miracle it was he lived as long as he did, and that he accomplished as much as he did – standing and walking around, regaining strength and weight. And it all came back to his organs were never going to be able to support his body. The damage from the starvation was too severe. So eventually to live, his spirit had to leave his body behind. I have to severely restrain myself to not lash out at what brought him to this point. God, please help me to forgive because I’m having trouble doing it myself.
This morning we take Windchill’s body on its last ride here on earth. We leave for Anoka shortly. Normally I love loading up horses in the trailer and going for a ride somewhere. This morning’s ride may be the hardest of my life. Man I loved that little guy. We all did. I know you did too. He just had such a sweet, innocent, mischievous personality you couldn’t not love him. Lifting his head to see why you’re not petting him. Grunting a bit when he wanted some water or more food. Sighing as he was brushed and massaged. Nuzzling when it was quiet and it was just Kathi or me and him laying there next to him. I got addicted to that little whinny he made each time we’d open the door to return to the barn, or we left him for too long in his opinion to clean the stalls next to him so we’d have to go back in there and give him another hug. So this morning I guess I fail in another goal I had for Windchill – one more hello than goodbyes.
Many have asked about Windchill’s foundation. We know what it’s mission will be and we know in general who we will be working with but it’s too soon to have begun the work. We began developing the idea for his foundation as Windchill mentored us in the belief that there is power in hope and that one soul can cause change. And if one 9 month old soul can unite a world and bring together strangers from all walks of life – we figured he could lead all of us to change the world a step at a time. Just like he did. And just like his spirit will do. We have a restricted fund set up for him. Those dollars that went to Equine Allies will be used to reimburse those that bought so many supplies for him, the equipment we were a day away from going live with to monitor him (and let you sit with him alsol), as well as his other needs along with his medicine and medical bills. I don’t know what happens to any remaining dollars there but their cause is a good one and so I’m not worried. Those dollars that have been contributed to his restricted fund will be used for his foundation – our dream is that what Windchill brought together will continue. We’ve witnessed first-hand the miracle that is generated when people join together and believe.
I see his volunteers are back to say “goodbye” before we leave. My heart breaks again. Two nights ago Larry Ericksen brought over a solid metal pipe we were going to put on the barn ceiling today. Gary Niemi, our official barn engineer, had come up with an idea for extending the chain and winch we used for Windchill to allow for even more movement without Windchill reaching the end of the sling and chains and getting them twisted when he walked around a lot. Windchill was getting taller and heavier, so we needed to come up with a new system. Then today was going to be a quiet pizza party and celebration of his time with us and how well he was doing. Sigh. I have to go.