Our friends Cathy and Mike have long been the caretakers of a horse named Zubaranna. She was almost thirty-five years old, and had been in Cathy’s life for thirty-two of those years. Both Cathy and Cathy’s children learned to ride on Zubaranna’s back, and she taught me how to canter. She was blind in one eye, and when she looked at you her head tilted at a funny angle.

 In the summer, she’d often wander free on Cathy and Mike’s land, surprising visitors.

                                A cherished friend
“One of your horses is loose!” people would exclaim as they drove up. But Zubaranna didn’t need fences.

She’d wander to the most luscious patches of grass, and knew where to find the sweet apple trees.

Long ago, Cathy promised Zubaranna that she’d never wear a bridle again. But she still carried riders, even this past summer. Now her riders were small children, and she was always careful about the precious cargo she was carrying.

Yesterday, Cathy and Mike called. Mike had been feeding Zubaranna, and she looked a little strange. So he called Cathy down. Cathy got a halter, went down and slipped it over Zubaranna’s head, and as if Zubaranna had been waiting for Cathy to be there, she gently lay down onto her side. She would never rise again.

When we arrived Zubaranna was still breathing. We all took turns being with her, blowing gently into her nose, talking to her, and petting her. Each breath she took was like a long, relaxed sigh, and thick tendrils of mist swirled around our faces.

I was waiting for the vet out by the road, so I didn’t see Zubaranna’s final run. But as Mike, Cathy, and Rebecca lay around her, she began to canter, her legs moving as she ran over grassy hills and snowy fields.  She was galloping away to freedom.

There’s been a lot of death this week. My mother saw death first-hand when she rushed over to where her sister-in-law had passed away during the night. She’s lost a dear friend, and her husband Ted has lost a sister. My writing-friend Erica lost her father this past week. And a black cat friend, Orion, lay down to rest and decided to stay there.

On the way home after Zubaranna died, Rebecca and I smiled through our tears. “Death is really beautiful,” Rebecca said. And she’s right. I think that somewhere inside of ourselves, we realize that it’s something pure that we all share. It’s the very thing that makes all this living worthwhile, because it gives us a context in which to live.

 A lot of us are visiting family and friends during this holiday season. It’s a good time to give lingering hugs, to sit down and share memories, and to take the time to let people know how much you cherish them. We’re all here for a limited duration, and we’re all changing with each moment that passes. All the more reason to live every moment as fully as we possibly can.

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