There is A LOT going on.

In personal lives of friends and family.

In the US.

In the world.

I am thinking about it all, and carrying it along with my own struggles.

But there is something that I wanted to share with you, a personal story and a reminder.

Last June was the first time I had ever gone to a regional horse show, and I underestimated the stress and anxiety I would deal with. There may or may not have been a crying jag on the phone with the bestie back home about not being cut out for showing. But I set my jaw, put on my chaps, and went out and proved to myself that I could do it.

In the mix, there was a trainer, Mike McDaniel, who was right down the aisle and always had a smile ready underneath his white walrus mustache. There was a moment where I was heading toward the warm up arena and he was horseback, returning from some cow event. My face must have looked like I’d eaten rocks because he said, “When in doubt, just go faster.” It made me laugh, broke a little of the tension, and I loved him for it.

He didn’t have to say anything, didn’t have to offer a kind word or a smile or anything at all. But he did, because that’s just the sort of cowboy he was.

In November I got to spend an evening with Mike and his wife Gretchen, and listened to stories of how they met and the good old days of riding and training. I could have sat there all night. Looking back, I wonder if I left early, or if I could have stayed until the small hours soaking up the horse stories and missed out.

Not too long ago Mike was diagnosed with cancer. I was sad for him, but hopeful for a good outcome. I kept meaning to send him a message telling him how much his kindness meant in the moment. I just wanted him to know there was a woman he barely knew thinking good thoughts for him and thankful to have met him.

Last Saturday he was heavy on my mind, I kept thinking to myself that I needed to send him that Facebook message that I’d intended to weeks earlier. I know how life works. You have to take the time to tell people how much you appreciate them as soon and as much as possible.

But I didn’t send the message.

And I found out the next day that he passed.

Sometimes life just sucks. There’s nothing profound or comforting or meaningful in his death. It’s unfair that a man who seemed larger than life to me, jovial, and happy to share what he had (delicious grilled meat, a story, or horse advice) has to leave us all behind so soon.

I only knew him for a sliver of his life. But I’m happy I knew him at all.

Rest in peace, Mike. Hope there’s an endless supply of Pendleton and good horses to ride at that big horse show in the sky.