The waves of Grief

Dealing with Grief 

Riding the turbulent waves of grief is nothing short of savage exhaustion.

It doesn’t always begin when they Ascend, with Deedee this began way before, the agonising months and weeks of praying that they will get better, respond to the treatment, change from living in survival mode life to enjoying life. A part of you is constantly consumed with an ache that equal parts hurts and equal parts prays for a miracle, all whilst carrying on with life. 

How i prepared on the day was to open sacred space early on, to spend time with her, grooming and braiding her. I then had a strong cacao, to help my heart be open for her, to be open and in full expansiveness to move through her ceremony with out hearts connected. 

I gave her healing to prepare her, i opened her charka’s for ease of transitioning, she ate a bag of carrots and apples just before the vet arrived. 

As she began her journey over i played a song that held the depth of her meaning to me and honouring her greatness. 

I laid flowers on her representing her brightness, her divine sacredness, i lit a candle - the flame honouring her life and fire, i placed crystals around her, ones that help with the ascension. Copal burning helping make sure she can transition and leave her earthly body, while i spoke a prayer to her. 

A ritual to honour all that she was and all that she is. Being able to give this to her, certainly helped my heart in some way, knowing she was given a send of worthy of her. 

The importance of why I let my herd spend time with her is simple, and it comes from witnessing it time and time again. Horses know. They feel absence deeply, and when a soul leaves without explanation, the herd is left searching, calling, holding a question that has no answer. Allowing them to see her, to stand with her, to breathe her in one last time, gave them a moment of understanding. A soft closing. It didn’t take the grief away, but it changed its shape — from panic and confusion to something quieter, something that could be carried together. It is not about death, but about acknowledgement, respect, and love within the herd.

Tayen and Woo mostly sniffed and stood with her. Their way felt quiet and inward, as though they were gathering understanding through closeness and stillness, taking the time they needed before moving away. Thyme’s response was different. She brought movement — a surge of energy that first felt like a celebration of life and then felt like release rather than distress. By initiating the galloping, she seemed to help shift what was heavy, carrying the herd forward and reminding them how to breathe again as one. Each reaction spoke to a different way of processing loss, and none of them felt wrong. Together, they showed how grief doesn’t have one shape, even within a herd.

Research into equine behaviour and social dynamics shows that horses are highly bonded, socially aware animals who respond to loss in varied but predictable ways. When a horse dies, herd members often seek sensory confirmation through sniffing and close contact. This allows them to gather information via scent and presence, helping them understand that the individual is no longer alive rather than simply absent. This process can reduce prolonged searching, calling, and anxiety.

Different horses within the herd may respond differently depending on temperament, social role, and nervous system type. Quieter horses often process loss through stillness and proximity, while others — frequently those with leadership or regulating roles — respond through movement. Bursts of activity such as trotting or galloping are understood to be a way of discharging stress hormones and restoring nervous system balance within the group, it can also be as in the wild, danger could be nearby. Movement helps shift heightened emotional energy and can support the herd in returning to regulation.

These varied responses are not signs of distress alone, but part of a natural social and physiological process. Together, they reflect how a herd collectively processes loss — through contact, observation, movement, and shared presence — rather than through a single uniform behaviour.

Nothing can prepare you for the one less bucket at breakfast, the empty stable, the lonely hanging head collar, the quietness the lays over the yard, finishing the yard work quicker with one less to muck out, poo pick …. , but the hardest part but far is seeing her friends, her herd struggle, the notably less eating, the anxious attachment to one another. The need for someone to hold space, yet no one having the capacity too. 

Woo struggled the most, and Woo has always been the horse that is a direct reflection of my inner world. For longer than i can remember, iv always said with Woo, “ she knows me better than i know myself” the only difference now is i have more self awareness than i did 18 years ago when our journey together began. The first week was so hard, i knew she needed me to be ok, for her to be ok, and i just wasn’t able to give that to her. 

I let the herd re integrate together as a 4, id had to do lots of juggling with Dee,  her chronic pain had made her aggressive to the herd, so i couldn’t risk having her out with Seraphina, but i also wanted Seraphina to mix with the herd, so i had a rotation of Woo going between the herds, and tay occasionally with Thyme and Seraphina. 

With the loss of Deedee they needed to all be together, Woo was initially possessive over Thyme and driving tay away , but Phina and Tay share a special bond so they do lots of play and hanging out. 

The first week was rough, i defo took out my grief on a dumper driver that drove too fast past Tay, while yes its s lesson as a dumper driver that he needs to learn and understand that you don’t drive fast past horses i was unfairly shouty to say the least, grief is consuming, its fills you with a weight that you can’t help but carry, its exhausting presence, that you have to navigate through whilst having to adult. 

Being self employed brings it challenges when all you want to do is hide away from the world, hang with your herd, you still have to work, yet work also brings a beautiful escapism, it brings you into a shared present moment led by someone else’s needs. The beauty of every horse i touch, knowing i’m doing what i do for Deedee, she walks along side me, reminding me that advocating for each and every horse i can is for her and the horse collective. 

Offerings i’ve shared with the herd are some essential oils to help with processing (rose, geranium, violet leaf) , aconite homeopathy to help with the shock, rescue remedy to help their nervous systems. 

We are now a month on, and living in a new rhythm, one that is learning to adjust to the change, one that still rides the waves as they come, i take the herd invitations to slow, and sit with them when needed. I take comfort in all the signs Dee sends me to let me know she’s with me always. 

Grief is LOVE, and i see so much beauty with the landscape of grief.