Run free, Gypsum, May 2, 1993 -June 2, 2021

Caol Ila

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Joined
23 January 2012
Messages
4,479
Location
Glasgow
My post got removed by admin for 'inappropriate language.' How nice of them. :( I'd forgotten I used the F-word, as I wrote it originally in a Word doc, but don't see why they couldn't have edited it out.

Gypsum deserves it to be here.

***

I was going to post this earlier, but then I started flapping about her little sister potentially being in foal. Maybe she always wanted to have the last laugh in the end. She always wanted the whole damned world to know who was boss.

**

You were everything. A character. A lady who must be kept to the lifestyle in which you were accustomed. You knew what you wanted, from your riders, from other horses, from your livery yards, from me. You were a big, powerful presence, the queen of the yard, and I don’t see how anyone, horse or human, will ever truly measure up to you.

We did everything together. We survived senior year of high school. We got as far as a First Level freestyle at Dressage in the Rockies to Natalie McMaster playing Welcome to the Trossachs and the Gravel Walk. We did the quadrille with our Joder friends. We bombed some Second Level tests (52%, anyone? Worthy of shitedressageunited). We had some epic trail rides in those mountains. We crossed streams, galloped up hills, scrambled down sketchy slopes. We went to university together. It was a long drive, but not the longest one. Remember Mount Holyoke? Our rides around the lake? The time you bucked me off on a golf course? Becky’s dressage lessons – valiant attempts to make me less shit? The lame sex jokes about what to do in wash stalls? The overwrought 20-something girl social drama that left me crying on your shoulder more than once? A hot Massachusetts summer had to ourselves, where we would race across fields? I hope you can remember.

We went back to Colorado after I graduated, and you helped me teach Dante everything he knew. I thought I broke him in, but I think it was you. You ponied him on those trails. You led him on his first trail ride, his first canter along a track. I’d hoped you would be around to teach Hermosa, but you’ve left it all to me now. I don’t know how that’s going to work.

We got on a plane and came to the UK. I couldn’t leave the States without you. Did I know you would never see your beloved Colorado mountains again? Do horses think about these things? We were in Durham for a year. I think we were both culture shocked and confused most of the time, but we survived. We had each other. We moved to Scotland, first Edinburgh, then Glasgow and South Lanarkshire and back to Glasgow. We finished a PhD. A novel. You saw me meet guys, break up with guys. All the joy, all the tears. You saw me get married. You saw it start to unravel, and you saw it (and me) completely self-destruct when he got MND. But you were there. You would give me that half-pass or shoulder-in or fly over the cross-country jumps or amble around the Larkhall council estates even if I was a mess. You were a lot stronger than I was. You always were. You made damned sure that an amazing guy like James would be there before you had to go.

You also drove me crazy. You weren’t always an easy horse. You loved people, but you terrorized other horses. I couldn’t keep you in herds, which is a problem in the UK, because individual turn-out is not a thing. You hated midges, horizontal rain, and cows. Unfortunately, Scotland has lots of these. When a yard had the wrong juju, you would fencewalk relentlessly and leave First World War trenches in your wake. I never knew if any yard move would be a disaster or not.

Easterton wasn’t one of those disasters (let’s not talk about how we ended up there and just be thrilled that we did). We discovered Mugdock Park together, we made new friends, and our relationship soared again. Despite the pandemic, we had one of our happiest years. But I didn’t know that this would be a year of so many “lasts.” Our last jump, when you flew over logs in Mugdock like you had wings. Our last dressage session, where you danced across the outdoor arena for me. Our last gallops up the hills in Mugdock, when you outran all the younger horses. You were 27, yet it felt like you would go on forever. But we had our last hack into the park, our last bimble around the mansion loop, our last feed bucket, our last handgrazing walk on the back road verges that overlook Glasgow on one side and the Campsies and the Trossachs on the other. We did ride that freestyle to a tune called Welcome to the Trossachs, didn’t we? It was more fitting than I ever knew.

If I could have any one thing, it would be to jump on your back and gallop across the moor in Mugdock Park, or charge up the side of Joder Mountain, or ride one more half-pass. You would be strong and fast again. But you have one more journey to make, and I can’t go with you this time, although I would like to. When you get there, you’ll be fit and fast. Your legs will work again. You can run up hills, bound over rocks and logs, and terrorize all the horses who will be waiting for you. I know you’ll like that.

I don’t know what I’m going to do without you.

(not having a foal would be a start, though)
 

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Ambers Echo

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Joined
13 October 2017
Messages
6,153
Nice one admin. The most beautiful tribute I've ever read with lots of moving replies, which I hope helped you to feel supported in your grief, and they couldn't just request a minor edit? Glad you reposted. She does deserve to be remembered.

As I said before, a wonderful tribute to a very special mare and to a magical partnership. Thinking of you. X
 

splashgirl45

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Joined
6 March 2010
Messages
10,667
Location
suffolk
thanks admin, how insensitive, just remove the offending word, i dont even remember it....


.a very special horse and a lovely tribute, look after yourself xx
 

Ceriann

Well-Known Member
Joined
28 June 2012
Messages
2,165
Beautiful tribute - you clearly had such a special bond. Your story you would wish for every horse.
 

PurBee

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Joined
23 November 2019
Messages
2,698
Admin really? We’re all allowed a swear word while grieving 🙄

Thinking of you CI...take good care of yourself. It’s been a struggle lately and the persistence, bravery and care you’ve put towards your 2 is inspiring.
A really beautiful tribute to a wonderful horse
X
 

CanteringCarrot

Well-Known Member
Joined
1 April 2018
Messages
2,299
Weird flex (admin), but ok.

Could've removed the offering language and given a gentle reminder via PM.

Definitely worth reposting your amazing adventures you had with your lovely horse. Again, so sorry for your loss.
 

ILuvCowparsely

Well-Known Member
Joined
5 April 2010
Messages
13,162
My post got removed by admin for 'inappropriate language.' How nice of them. :( I'd forgotten I used the F-word, as I wrote it originally in a Word doc, but don't see why they couldn't have edited it out.

Gypsum deserves it to be here.

***

I was going to post this earlier, but then I started flapping about her little sister potentially being in foal. Maybe she always wanted to have the last laugh in the end. She always wanted the whole damned world to know who was boss.

**

You were everything. A character. A lady who must be kept to the lifestyle in which you were accustomed. You knew what you wanted, from your riders, from other horses, from your livery yards, from me. You were a big, powerful presence, the queen of the yard, and I don’t see how anyone, horse or human, will ever truly measure up to you.

We did everything together. We survived senior year of high school. We got as far as a First Level freestyle at Dressage in the Rockies to Natalie McMaster playing Welcome to the Trossachs and the Gravel Walk. We did the quadrille with our Joder friends. We bombed some Second Level tests (52%, anyone? Worthy of shitedressageunited). We had some epic trail rides in those mountains. We crossed streams, galloped up hills, scrambled down sketchy slopes. We went to university together. It was a long drive, but not the longest one. Remember Mount Holyoke? Our rides around the lake? The time you bucked me off on a golf course? Becky’s dressage lessons – valiant attempts to make me less shit? The lame sex jokes about what to do in wash stalls? The overwrought 20-something girl social drama that left me crying on your shoulder more than once? A hot Massachusetts summer had to ourselves, where we would race across fields? I hope you can remember.

We went back to Colorado after I graduated, and you helped me teach Dante everything he knew. I thought I broke him in, but I think it was you. You ponied him on those trails. You led him on his first trail ride, his first canter along a track. I’d hoped you would be around to teach Hermosa, but you’ve left it all to me now. I don’t know how that’s going to work.

We got on a plane and came to the UK. I couldn’t leave the States without you. Did I know you would never see your beloved Colorado mountains again? Do horses think about these things? We were in Durham for a year. I think we were both culture shocked and confused most of the time, but we survived. We had each other. We moved to Scotland, first Edinburgh, then Glasgow and South Lanarkshire and back to Glasgow. We finished a PhD. A novel. You saw me meet guys, break up with guys. All the joy, all the tears. You saw me get married. You saw it start to unravel, and you saw it (and me) completely self-destruct when he got MND. But you were there. You would give me that half-pass or shoulder-in or fly over the cross-country jumps or amble around the Larkhall council estates even if I was a mess. You were a lot stronger than I was. You always were. You made damned sure that an amazing guy like James would be there before you had to go.

You also drove me crazy. You weren’t always an easy horse. You loved people, but you terrorized other horses. I couldn’t keep you in herds, which is a problem in the UK, because individual turn-out is not a thing. You hated midges, horizontal rain, and cows. Unfortunately, Scotland has lots of these. When a yard had the wrong juju, you would fencewalk relentlessly and leave First World War trenches in your wake. I never knew if any yard move would be a disaster or not.

Easterton wasn’t one of those disasters (let’s not talk about how we ended up there and just be thrilled that we did). We discovered Mugdock Park together, we made new friends, and our relationship soared again. Despite the pandemic, we had one of our happiest years. But I didn’t know that this would be a year of so many “lasts.” Our last jump, when you flew over logs in Mugdock like you had wings. Our last dressage session, where you danced across the outdoor arena for me. Our last gallops up the hills in Mugdock, when you outran all the younger horses. You were 27, yet it felt like you would go on forever. But we had our last hack into the park, our last bimble around the mansion loop, our last feed bucket, our last handgrazing walk on the back road verges that overlook Glasgow on one side and the Campsies and the Trossachs on the other. We did ride that freestyle to a tune called Welcome to the Trossachs, didn’t we? It was more fitting than I ever knew.

If I could have any one thing, it would be to jump on your back and gallop across the moor in Mugdock Park, or charge up the side of Joder Mountain, or ride one more half-pass. You would be strong and fast again. But you have one more journey to make, and I can’t go with you this time, although I would like to. When you get there, you’ll be fit and fast. Your legs will work again. You can run up hills, bound over rocks and logs, and terrorize all the horses who will be waiting for you. I know you’ll like that.

I don’t know what I’m going to do without you.

(not having a foal would be a start, though)
What a lovely tribute to a well loved horse. Run free Gypsum
 

Wishfilly

Well-Known Member
Joined
1 March 2016
Messages
1,706
I'm so sorry for your loss. You can feel from all your posts how much Gypsum is loved. 27 is an incredible age, you did so well to get her there.

And yes, I think admin could have just deleted the word, given the context?
 

maya2008

Well-Known Member
Joined
10 August 2018
Messages
945
I know what it is to live your entire adult life with a much loved horse by your side. I have seen horses hold on for owners they clearly love, and I have watched my retired girl (who has always kept me sane) push me towards a new ridden friend so I can find the bond that I need. Gypsum couldn’t live as long as you, but she would very much want you to be happy and to remember her with joy (and the lessons she taught you).

I hope Hermosa isn’t pregnant. If she is, maybe it’s the baby Gypsum wanted you to have?!
 

Laurac13

Well-Known Member
Joined
12 September 2015
Messages
258
A very lucky horse who had a fantastic life and owner and she will live forever in your heart x
 
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