Blessed are the ones you touched…
You are so close and yet so far away. In dark, silent moments, I wonder who I am now and who I may be. I remember who was near you and smirked. I was probably one of your biggest projects and still am. Sometimes lost and sometimes too safe on unsafe terrain. You are there when I stumble and when I do not dare to take the next step.
The memory of my gut feeling came back through you. You brought me back to myself. Every day a piece. With everything that I miss so terribly, one thing remains to me: The compass in my heart that you showed me and that still speaks your language. I promise you that he will never be silenced, that he will never be buried under all that you have dug out of me with. You are the teacher I needed to find my joy. And sometimes, like now, it still feels that way. I need you. Then I close my eyes and you push me with your nose in the direction of courage. Thank you for waking me as I walked sleepwalking through life. Thank you for the courage as I threatened to suffocate my fear. Thank you for turning on the light when I was lost in the dark. And thank you now and forever for every shove when I needed it. You are the fire that transforms me and the water through which I drive my mills. The sun that brings the light into my life. The moon that reminds me of the glow in me at night. You are the earth that lets me root and the wind that gives me wings. You are every sense of resonance, every goose bump and every moment of happiness. In all these moments you are stuck; in my memory. You are the connection that never ends and the promise that never breaks.
Thank you for 22 years earthly happiness. Thank you for your never ending encouragement.
I found you 22 years ago at the end of a rainbow. Literally. You came into my life as my daughter’s horse, I did not realise then that you started to teach me right from that moment onwards. I was taken by your sheer magnificence, presence and dignity, your unwavering desire to make unseen things known to people allthough utterly in fear of your physical being.