10/22/2025
Equine loss and grief.
Some of my dearest friends have had to say goodbye to their heart-horses recently. One case was chronic but progressed rapidly, one case was acute and highly traumatic, one was timely but not smooth. Saying goodbye leaves a gaping, ragged hole in the heart that is precariously patched like a cheap band-aid with photographs, video clips, and well-intentioned sympathies from friends.
Pet loss support groups abound, cats and dogs are readily accepted as family members in many circles, yet there is little discussion about the trauma that can result from the loss of a beloved equine.
When I lost my first horse to a diaphragmatic hernia and colic when I was 16, the experience literally broke me. It shattered my spirit. I developed IBS, spent years in therapy, went on a journey where I sought all kinds and modalities of holistic healing (which helped me to become the equine healer I am today, so no regrets there), left me tangling with entities and shadows, and has taken decades to overcome and understand. Not everyone will go through such a harsh experience, but there is a whole spectrum of grief and loss that doesn't follow the "five stages" readily touted in the literature. Grief is not linear, it doesn't follow set patterns.
"Disenfranchised grief" is when your grieving doesn’t fit in with larger society’s attitude about dealing with death and loss. The lack of support during your grieving process can prolong emotional pain. Showing up to the office and telling your coworkers you are devasted by the loss of your horse may lead to raised eyebrows, shoulder-shrugs, or...worse. "Oh, I'm sorry. It's just a horse, you'll get over it." Or "Shouldn't you be over it by now? That happened a month ago." There is no bereavement leave for losing your equine bestie. And there IS NO TIMELINE for the grieving process.
Losing one's horse can equate to losing one's identity - whether a trainer, or veterinarian, or competitive amateur, or weekend trail warrior. The loss leaves questions of "what do I do now?" "Should I get another horse?" "Can I afford another horse?" "How will I ever find one like the one I had?" "Replacing" one's best friend doesn't happen - each equine is an individual, creating a unique bond with unique quirks, temperament, likes and dislikes, voice, and needs. Compounded by a ridiculous market right now flooded with lame, behaviorally-challenged, poorly-bred, and over-priced equids (all of whom still have value, btw), the search for a new mount can create additional emotional and financial exhaustion on top of the previous loss. What should be an exciting or healing time often leads to more questions, and more grief for what was, and for what's now gone and empty.
The best way to support one another through such a loss is to show up and simply be present. No advice, no trying to fix, no "cheer up, it could be worse, at least it wasn't your Mom!" or taking over the narrative with personal stories that leave the person feeling unvalidated and unheard. Simply be. Be present with an open heart. Be supportive through presence. Let people know they are seen and heard and loved through unimaginable loss. That they are not alone on this journey.
Horses are massive energetic beings. They sense our heartrates and our emotions. They can heal us in ways no human spiritual healer ever could. They teach us in ways the highest pedagogue could only dream of. And they can shatter us in the most terrible ways. Regardless, horses are made of dreams and help our dreams to come true. Their loss can lead to nightmares and shadows, and it takes time to find one's way back to the light. Understanding that equine loss can take a toll that can surpasses the loss of a human family member may be difficult for some, but not for those who have hoofbeats in their hearts.
Wishing love and healing to all those going through loss.
Dr. Joanna
