Gentleman Gulliver

 I can’t stop hearing those words “Gulliver is dead”. Out of the blue, completely unexpected, most certainly unwelcome. 

I didn’t want them to be real. I wanted to un-hear them. I wanted that phone to be as far from my ear as possible. I threw it onto the bed and just kept on murmuring those horrid words. I got up and walked into the hotel bathroom. 

The grief swamped me abs pulled me to the floor. How was this possible. My boy. My beautiful boy. Dead. Give. Forever. And me - so far away. The grief wracked my body and overwhelmed me. 

Pull yourself together. Stand up. Open the door. Get dressed. Go down to breakfast. One step at a time.  I walked barefooted to the restaurant. I stared blankly. Confused and struck dumb. 

Trying to be strong but crying all the time. Red eyes we finally made it back to the yard. Deep breath. I opened your stable door. There lay my big handsome giraffe. Tongue out (as always). First time I saw you laid down. Last time I would see you. 

I cried and cried. I stroked your ear. I cuddled into your neck and stroked your face. I told you I loved you. I asked why you left me. I apologised for not being there. I longed for you to not be dead. We had so many plans and so much more fun to have. But you were gone. Your life snuffed out in a heartbeat - or a lack of one, as it was. 

I am numb. I am bereft. My best friend. My reason for being busy and for smiling when I didn’t know I could. My reason for laughing more than I have in many years. My safety net. Where do I go from here?

There will never be another Gentleman Gulliver. Never another horse so patient and kind. So full of character. So trusting and sincere. You were simply amazing. You touched the lives of so many and left mine far too soon. 

I miss you all the time. My trusty steed. My Gulliver.