On Saturday, my riding instructor died of a blood clot to his heart. He was 61. I had just taken a lesson with him on Thursday, and he had taken a trail ride with three kids out. It was sudden, it was quick, and it was devastating to everyone who loved him.
I know this is for horses, but there is no where else he belongs more.
He was an amazing, giving person. He wanted to give everyone the love he had for horses, help them understand, respect, and communicate with them as he did. He was constantly teaching, sharing his knowledge, sharing his passion.
If any man alive was a horse whisperer, he was. He never turned away a horse because they were deemed dangerous, or a rider who wanted to learn. "There is no such thing as a bad horse," he used to say. Most of his own horses were animals who had been abused to the point most people thought they needed to be put down. He took them, loved them, taught them, and now they are the rocks of the trail riding academy. He never gave up- on any animal or person,
He touched a horse, and you could see it relax, see it's eyes soften. He could make them do anything he asked, because they loved and trusted him. He was a special man, one in a million. He seemed to speak their language. If he went out in the pasture, every horse would come to him, want to be near him. It was that way with people too. Once you knew him, you wanted to be near him, to be taught by him, and share his deep love for life.
You will be missed, Bill...by everyone who knew you, even for a day.