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How woozey my eyes

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You died.

It’s taken me four months to say those words and even now it’s just breathtaking to admit it.

I walked to your stable before you left, left to be made better, I saw you in your agony, sweat and tears, your head hanging into your knees begging us to make it better. So we did, or so we thought.

Into the box you staggered all believing, loving and hoping that you’d be back in no time, as always, into your bravado and home. But it wasn’t to be and the box came home empty.

It’s months later; your ashes are planted and life grows around you but every day, EVERY day Huffy, I walk up to the stables and I see your face, hear your voice and see your face. It seems impossible that moments are just that, moments.

In retrospect you told me days before this - my camera tells me so - every day you reminded me to see you, be with you, love you. As if we could ever do anything other than love you. Thank you for making me aware.

I don’t understand life and I surely don’t understand why we fought so hard to meet you only to have you taken away so soon but I do know this, you will remain perfect (well done you) and immortalised in memories far beyond your imagination.

I don’t know what I gave you to, if anything, but what you did was awake my soul and you, my brightest boy, will live forever in it.

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