The World of Living with Horses

Dear Clark – On This Day, 16 Years Ago

Nov. 9, 2012

Dear Clark,

It’s been 16 years and I can still see your perfectly shaped diamond star, your long and elegant thoroughbred body.  I remember that you had the kindest eyes and a wise soul. I remember how sweet you always smelled and how soft your bright bay coat felt.

I remember your schoolboy crush and how excited you were to see Yabby. I remember the wedding, complete with Martinelli’s cider and a carrot cake.  All your friends – Hope, Magnus, Kicks and April – were in attendance.


I remember wearing a hunter green Polo sweatshirt with a bear on it. (It now sits, untouched, in my closet.) I remember the fear I felt the moment I heard and the words, the sound of my mom’s voice when she told me you weren’t a survivor.  I remember the sense of loss and hopelessness that I thought would never go away as my whole world was pulled from underneath me.

I remember the sight of the barn, a pile of ash and debris, and the horrible smell of fire and death, a smell that lingers still. They told us that you didn’t suffer and that smoke inhalation had made it quick.  I remember the tears that came unbidden; that never really stopped.

I remember sifting through the ashes where your stall had been, looking for any trace of you, a nameplate, a horseshoe, anything to hold on to. I remember the soot covering my hands and my clothes. And I remember how much I missed you and wanted you back.

After 16 years, I just want you to know that I remember and will never forget.


By Cara Wirth