A Life Cut Short
Points are reached in life
where you come to the realization that you are in route to the wrong destination.
The end of Spring semester 2008 was one of those pivotal moments for me.
With a volleyball season ended that left me underwhelmed, grades that were
not up to my expectations, and faltering friend and family relationships
- I knew the point had been reached to change my life by modifying my everyday
approach and outlook.
My mother and father had
their first child, my twenty two year-old sister, at the age of 19. At such
an early age they had ingrained the meaning of selflessness and the importance
of hard work and family upon themselves. I respect no one more than them,
and that they could have this mind-set still in their teens has always inspired
me.
Coming into the summer
of 2008, I had lived my first year of college in a way that rotated around
me and what was the best I could attain for myself. I had been in need of
attention, possessions, and success. The world I had fashioned around me
during my first year, however, left me and many others with little more than
a sour taste. Immediate change was needed. I wanted the unwavering attitude
of selflessness and devotion instilled into me as it had been for my parents.
The question remained how.
God answered quickly. Horses
came into my life this last summer, and by the end of July I had purchased
my own: DSD Sweet Rezolena- or as you all know her: Ameera. I had looked
at numerous horses, but from the moment I saw her peek her cute Arab face
out of her stall, I knew I had found the one for me. She was barely three
and had done little more than go out, graze, and rest in her stall for those
three years. The best years of her life were on her doorstep, and I wanted
to give her those.
At the age of three you
can begin to break an Arabian horse to ride, and just that was done with
Ameera. By the end of August she had competed in two shows, placing in both.
Nate granted my wish of being able to ride my own horse by the end of summer.
She learned with immense patience, willingness, and intelligence. The next
step was moving her up to a stable I selected near UW-Oshkosh so that her
training and preparation for the spring show season could
continue.
She indeed came up to school
with me, and the months flew past us. It seems like a distant memory that
I was riding my bike down Highway I to see her and nurse her first wound,
due to the fact that I was unable to find a car for the drive. She became
my motivation to work, my project, my constant worry, my joy, my baby
girl.
On Saturday, January 31st,
two of the most important people in my life, my grandmother and aunt, made
a day trip up to see me and meet Ameera for the first time. Sleep did not
come to me the night before; this was a day long in the making. Pictures
were taken of her, ohs and ahs exchanged, and then I set Meera free to run
around inside the arena and show how playful and personality filled she was
to my two important spectators.
In the midst of the awe
and smiles that Meera left all of us with, everything crumbled. She came
down upon her left front foot in mid-trot, and an audible crack echoed throughout
the arena. It was as sharp as the implosion of a firecracker; my world tumbled.
Once as graceful and light as the wind, she could now bear no weight upon
this foot, and had to limp back to her stall. In mere seconds the one dream
that I had devoted the entirety of my time, emotion, financial means, and
love to for the last seven months- shattered.
In all literal terms, Meera's
pastern in her left front leg was shattered. The vet counted six major breaks
within the small but vitally important bone, and twenty seven breaks in all.
Before the prognosis was given to me in front of the entire barn, and the
now large group of spectators we had drawn in front of the x-ray, I asked
to speak with the vet in private. We stepped into the cold and before either
of us could say anything, she drew me into her for a hug, tears running from
both of our faces. We both knew the reality of the situation, little needed
to be explained. I cannot thank her enough for the immense kindness and respect
she had for me, Meera, and my family throughout the day.
Was surgery a possibility?
The answer is an uneasy, yes. However, the pain Meera would have suffered
prior to, during, and even after the surgery would not account for the final
result. The damage was incredible, and would never be able to be fully repaired.
The truth - even if surgery would have been attempted, Meera would have never
taken a sound step again in her life. She would not be able to ride and run
as every horse should be capable of; her movement would end up disjointed,
slow, and ultimately causing her pain.
She was put under anesthesia
to put her into a standing sleep, immediately followed by a syringe to euthanize
her. All she knew was that she had fallen asleep, my arms wrapped around
her. As I backed away, and she crumbled lifeless to the floor, I collapsed
in anguish. Tears came from every eye and were prevalent on the faces of
everyone in the barn, running too steadily for even that cold day to freeze.
My last image of Ameera was her body lying in the center of the arena, drops
of water coming from the roof and encircling solely the ground she laid upon.
It was a day of dry skies and below freezing temperatures; I believe they
were God's tears of apology to both her and I.
Where do you pick up the
pieces? Where do you continue to when every thought, action, and motivation
has gone towards something that no longer exists? What do you turn
to?
For now, I am left incredibly
hollow. What she could have accomplished, what she could have been, the people
she could have touched - we will never come to know. At the age of three
her life was just beginning, but it is a life that has been cut short and
will never be fulfilled.
In time I will be able
to turn to the numerous lessons Meera has left me with. She was the greatest
teacher, friend, and treasure of my life. I will never regret spending the
thousands of dollars upon her, bubble wrapping her every move and step. I
gave every penny and second I could to her, but in the end you cannot control
tragedies that will come. What will come, will come. I had the opportunity
to see her transform before my eyes and catch glimpses of the astounding
creature she was to become - all due to the time and energy put in by countless
individuals, including myself. There is no greater feeling.
To those of you I tagged
in this note: an incredible amount of thanks. You were part of the family
that Meera formed around herself, beginning with Nate and I. Whether through
donating a car ride to the stable, or coming to see and play with her, I
am eternally indebted. I hope seeing her brought you as much joy as we had
by having you out with
her.
Matt
Boese
Ameera 
