A year ago today my whole world fell apart

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TRIGGER WARNING: This post contains language and images about animal death. Please read with caution and take care of yourself.

“Hey, just wanted to make sure Henry’s ok! Do you know what caused it?”

This is the text I got from my best friend at 2:33pm a year ago today.

I was at my dad’s house for my niece’s birthday party, and not wanting to disrupt the festivities, I walked in the house and called her.

“Hey what’s up?” I said.

“Just wanted to make sure Henry was ok. The fire looks really bad.”

My stomach dropped. My brain couldn’t think of the next words to say. Probably because it didn’t want to ask them.

“Are you still there? Johnny can send you the post on Facebook. I’ll let you call Eric, but call me back when you can and let me know what’s going on.”

The next thing I know two pictures pop up on my phone from my friend’s son. Ones now forever seared into my memory.

This is/was the barn that my beloved reining horse, Starlights Gunman, aka Henry, was stabled in.

I immediately called my horse trainer Eric. No answer.

I called the other head trainer at the barn. No answer.

I texted the assistant trainers. No answer

I remember walking out my dad’s front door and collapsing in the front yard. At some point I remember screaming and my mom came rushing around the house from the backyard. She immediately asked what was wrong, but I was crying so hard I couldn’t get the words out.

I just held my phone up and showed her the picture.

“Oh my god Charlie. What happened?”

“I don’t know but I just know he’s gone. Henry’s gone.” was all I could say.

A few hours later one of the assistant trainers finally texted me back with the news my heart already knew:

Months later when the fire chief had concluded his investigation, we learned it was caused by an accidental electrical malfunction in the apartment above the barn. All we were told was “something like an electric coffee pot or portable microwave”.

Being an older facility it had exposed insulation, and when the fire hit the open air space of the indoor arena it exploded. The entire thing went up in flames in six seconds.

You can look up the rest of the details online, but 44 horses and 1 dog perished that day.

My trainer, Eric Priest, spend a month in the Ohio State University Burn Center in Columbus, Ohio, after running back into the inferno to try and save a few horses. Unfortunately their instinct in disasters is to stay where they’re comfortable, and they ran back into their stalls.

I’m happy to report that Eric is fully recovered and back to riding and showing. It’s his livelihood and the only thing he knows. We’re all incredibly grateful for his heroism and sacrifice, but more importantly that he’s here with us today.

I share this story with you not to make you sad (though I know it is. It’s more raw today on the 1-year anniversary).

I share it with you to show that no matter what life throws at us, we can, and must move forward. The ones we leave behind wouldn’t want us to continue suffering. And if you’re like me, you believe you’ll see each other again someday.

I didn’t really have a plan or outline for this email today. I just felt called to share the story with you and to write about Henry and “the 44” as we call them. To commemorate and honor them.

So I’ll leave you with a short tribute I posted on my social media this morning to Henry:

It’s been exactly one year today since I lost you.

I still miss seeing your goofy face, kissing your soft nose, running my hands through your mane, and riding you — even on your quirky days.

I still haven’t visited your grave and don’t know if I ever will.

To me you’re not there. You’re here with us as we build the barn that was supposed to be yours.

I know you’re watching over the progress and once horses move in, you’ll tell them they don’t need to behave every single day, and to never go back in the stall without demanding a sweet treat.

I know I’m not alone in my feelings today and for that I’m grateful.

Though all of us wish that day never happened. We’ve all grieved and moved forward in our own ways and that’s ok.

But none of us will ever forget the 45 souls lost that day. Especially those that we called our own.

To my Henry - keep being naughty.

Stop as many times as you want (it was your favorite) and turn as little as you want (you never liked it anyway).

And save me a ride when we meet again.

Rest easy my sweet blue-eyed boy.💙

Until next time,
Charlie

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