10/15/2025
This morning I said goodbye to my heart horse, Freedom — Freddy.
There aren’t enough words for what he was to me—but I owe it to him to try.
Freddy came into my life on October 5th, 2021, right when I was at rock bottom. My divorce had just been finalized the same week he arrived. I was numb, angry, lost. Then this big, complicated, dramatic, beautiful horse showed up—with the name Freedom already his. Looking back, I think he found me—not the other way around.
He pulled me out of darkness in a way no person ever could. He gave me something to fight for again. He showed me that dreams I thought were dead were actually still alive—and waiting. He took me to Grand Prix. A level I used to watch in awe as a kid and thought, “That will never be me.” But with him—it was.
He wasn’t easy. Not for a single day. He tested everything about me—my patience, my courage, my soul. But Gosh, did he give everything back. He made me feel powerful, trusted, chosen. He made me feel enough. He was the most difficult horse in the barn and the most loyal one I will ever know.
In March of 2023, when he had colic surgery, he already proved he was a miracle. He fought hard and came back stronger, returning to Grand Prix work like nothing could stop him. I thought I had more time. We always think we have more time.
Most recently, he gave one more gift—he helped my assistant Zac earn his USDF Silver Medal and his first Gold Medal score. Freddy didn’t just shape my life. He changed others too. Zac loved him deeply, and we are hurting together.
Thank you to Dr. Kate from Oxford Hills Veterinary Hospital for coming so quickly, and for sending us to Myhre Equine Clinic. It was there we found out he had ruptured. There was no saving him. I had to make the worst decision of my life. I had to set my best friend free.
Losing my barn to a fire less than a month ago broke me.
Losing Freddy today shattered what was left.
He was my constant. My anchor. My heart. My monster. My once-in-a-lifetime.
Freddy, I don’t know how to do this without you. I don’t know how to walk into the “barn” and not hear you scream. I don’t know how to breathe through this. But I will—because you taught me how to fight. And I will carry you for the rest of my life.
I love you, Freedom. Thank you for everything.
Until I see you again—wait for me.