When Graycie's baby was born on Sunday, I stood in the field with them and called everyone I knew to tell them she had had a beautiful baby colt. My husband stood there calling people too. He called his mom in Florida to tell her and Orest her husband. Orest has been sick - well he is dying. He is in his nineties and for the past few months his heart has been slowly shutting down. Orest has always been good to me. He accepted me right away when Bill took me home to introduce me to his mom. He made the best martini's in the world and used to make this heavenly cheese dip to go with at martini hour. They were always served in the most beautiful, fine martini glasses. I used to think what a test, serving kick a** martinis in these expensive glasses. It was a risk worth taking.
Orest has been on my mind every day. I can't leave the farm for long because of all we have going on here, but still I think of him and Sylvia each day. When Bill asked me what I was going to name the baby I looked at him and said I think we should name him after Orest. Bill was excited and wanted to call his mom right away. I wanted to include her in the decision to choose the exact name. Orest was quite a man, he was proud that he had been a Bombadier in the war. He worked at the Pentagon most of his life and on the wall of one of his offices was plaque from his employees, given him upon his retirement. They called him Mr. Z. Sylvia thought that was perfect and she handed the phone to Orest so I could tell him. He was so happy and honored. It really picked their spirits up despite what they were facing.
Yesterday, Orest went to the doctors and Sylvia said he spent a half hour explaining that the baby horse had been named after him. He has trouble breathing because of the heart thing so it's difficult for him to talk. This must be very frustrating for such an intelligent vibrant man. Last night I signed onto the Registry to submit the names. I asked my husband if it should be Mr. Z or Mister Z. I submitted them both in that order.
My husband called me this morning to tell me that Orest had passed away last night. He had turned the light on in his room, sat down on his bed and died.
I'm glad Orest knew this little ball of fire would be named for him. I'm glad I didn't wait to tell him. I've always believed horses are healers, mystical, special beings.
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