In The Saddle with Anita Marsh: Horses are helping me heal after dad's shock death

In fact, I debated whether or not to write this at all, but in the end I couldn’t simply ignore what I am going through.

I couldn’t minimise it or pretend it isn’t happening. I also wanted to share with you how my horses are helping me to heal.

It’s been a harrowing month. Why?

Well, my dad passed away with cancer recently and we were not given long together as a family. It had already reached stage four and had spread to his liver, lungs and lymph nodes.

One minute he had a sore throat and a bit of a lump in it to losing him within six weeks. I just can’t find the words. That really says something because as a writer, trust me, I can always find the words.

By now I’m usually out competing my young horse at the start of spring, or just before if the weather breaks, but not this year.

This year I can’t face the show ring, the training, the people.

Everything seems difficult, some days more than others, but in general our lives have changed irrevocably with such a profound loss. Indeed life as I’ve always known it will never be the same.

I’ve shut myself away from the world, avoiding well meaning friends whilst I try and come to terms with my grief. It seeps into every corner of my life, of my mind and of my heart.

The only place I’ve found solace is when I’m riding my horses. It’s the only place I feel present and where I can’t think about anything else other than my horse’s ear twitching or the rhythm of their foot fall.

My mind is clear for the time I’m riding; I’m at one with my horse. There is a peace, a quietness which enables the hurt to not enter my thoughts. It isn’t able to seep into everything I do, say or touch. I can breathe without pain.

If you ask any horse owner they will tell you their horse is their therapy.

They are not wrong.

Horses are known to help people with physical and mental health conditions.

I’ve personally spent time with the Riding for the Disabled Association (RDA) years ago and could see the great benefits the horses gave to their riders. Horses make you happy. Fact.

We can talk about endorphins and exercise, but they just make you happy.

Every horse is unique, like a person. They are each brimming with their own character and possess different strengths and abilities.

My older mare, April, has always given me peace when I’m with her. My younger horse, Sully, makes me laugh out loud. They both have ways to enable me to be present and live in the moment.

I also have a pony, Mara, which you see me write about but she is entirely my daughter’s soul mate. That’s another story for another day.

As you can imagine, I’ve been struggling emotionally for a while now. I won’t be the first or the last person to lose a parent. I know grief takes its time and everyone is individual.

There’s no right or wrong way to grieve I’m told. We are all different.

What I can say is my horses absorb all of what’s happening. I don’t know how. I just know they take it away from me.

In that moment I’m just me. They restore me. I feel whole. It’s the only way I can explain it.

As soon as I’m off them and have put them back in the field it crashes down on me like a weight on my shoulders.

I am trying to reframe my thoughts with dad. I don’t want to remember how ill he was at the end. He wouldn’t want to be remembered like that either, so I’m going to share with you a funny memory that still makes me laugh today.

We were on our family holiday in Cornwall. I never had horses when I was little as we couldn’t afford them, but I’d been learning to ride at a riding school back home.

Dad had spent time as a pony driver down in the mines in Yorkshire, before he joined the forces.

He had a love of horses already so it wasn’t hard to convince him to come on a ride at a local trekking centre.

As we both saddled up I felt super excited that dad had come with me and we left my sister and mum doing other things together.

We chatted about whether we would be allowed to canter as a group. It was a lovely day but the flies were really bad.

I remember dad in front of me and I was behind. The group ride took us under some trees and I saw dad reach up to snap a branch off to use to waft away the flies.

The moment that happened dad’s horse bolted and dad set off at full gallop with the instructor telling us to stay still whilst she galloped after him to cut in front of his horse and help him pull up.

I’ll never forget dad’s beaming face when he returned. He told me he rode like a cowboy and it was such fun. I never got to canter that day as the instructor thought we’d all had enough excitement. Actually it was just dad who had the excitement but we always laughed about it.

He’s helped put up rug racks in my stables, put stable name plates up and saddle racks. He’s always been here doing jobs. I remember him teaching me how to drill and put up curtain poles and shelves.

Every day I miss him. Every day I look at the things he has done around my yard and my house and memories come flooding back of us working together doing things, of my sister making us cups of tea and of the fun and laughter we’ve had.

These are the memories I want in my mind. So I’m taking some time out - just me and my horses. I can compete any day.

Right now my horses have a more important job. Writing this is in some way cathartic, but horses really do help you heal. As we shed the winter hair off our horses coats and head into spring I’m reminded of the old saying ‘This too shall pass.’

I hope to remember less of the sad and more of the good times because that’s exactly what dad would want.

Thank you to all my family and friends for your support right now and to those of you from In The Saddle that have sent kind words and thoughts. To those of you experiencing loss right now I send you my love. Hang in there.