Some souls arrive softly,
as if carried by the wind.
Others arrive with a purpose you don’t understand until much later.

By the time 2019 unfolded, our finca had become a sanctuary —
not just for us, but for the animals who found their way into our lives
as if the island itself whispered,
“They belong with you now.”

🐴 Estrella — The Second Mare

In December 2019, my friend contacted us with urgency in her voice.

A young mare from another island was being fed only once or twice a week.
She had a year-old foal draining what little nourishment she had left.
Thin. Tired. Barely surviving.

“Would you take her?” she asked.

There was no hesitation.

Horses are herd animals, and both my daughters had grown into their own healing rhythm with our first mare, Ceniza.
Giving a second horse a home felt like completing a circle —
like answering a call we didn’t realize we had already heard.

We named her Estrella — Star.
Within a week, she and Ceniza bonded like sisters.
Two mares who had suffered too much,
now finding comfort side by side.

It was magical to watch.
It felt destined.

We didn’t know then how much we would need that bond.
Or how much healing the animals would soon give us
in return.

🌙 A Dream That Tried to Prepare Me

As I write this chapter, another memory rises —
one I had tucked away somewhere deep
because the truth of it was too heavy to hold.

In early 2019, long before Estrella arrived,
I dreamt that Ceniza was missing.
Gone.
No trace of her anywhere on the finca.

But in the dream, she eventually found her way back,
walking calmly toward me
as if returning from a journey only she understood.

A few weeks later,
the dream came again —
same storyline, same feeling —
except this time
she did not return.

I woke with a weight in my chest I couldn’t explain.

At the time, I brushed it off.
But now, with everything that followed,
I understand:

Ceniza’s soul had already begun whispering her story to me.
Her arrival.
Her return.
And her final departure.

Dreams are the language of the heart
when the heart is not yet ready for the truth.

The Summer She Almost Left Us

In late July 2019, the dream almost became real.

Ceniza rolled in her stable
and got herself stuck —
a dangerous position that can kill a horse quickly
if they cannot stand.

We shouted for help,
and two neighbours came running.
Together, we got her trembling body back onto her feet.

Her sides were scraped,
her legs torn,
her trust shaken.

The vet gave us ointments and creams,
and for two months, we tended to her wounds
as if they were sacred.

My daughters placed their small hands on her ribs,
giving her healing,
Reiki,
love poured into her skin like medicine.

And she healed.
Quickly.
Completely.

She chose to stay.

Now I see it clearly:

The dream where she returned —
that was this moment.

The dream where she didn’t —
that was still waiting for us in the future.

March 2020 — When the World Went Silent

Lockdown arrived like a storm without sound.
The roads emptied.
The sky dimmed.
The world became a soft, echoing shell of itself.

My husband had just begun hemodialysis in January.
Fear lived in our home long before the virus arrived.

But because we had the animals on the finca,
the girls could still go outside.
Still feel the sun.
Still breathe with their horses.

Those daily routines saved us from drowning in the stillness.
Saved us from breaking under the weight of uncertainty.

The horses became our heartbeat
when everything else fell silent.

💔 June 11, 2020 — The Day Love Held Her Until the End

Nothing prepares you
for the suddenness of grief.

Ceniza, our girl, our Ash,
broke her leg.

There was no treatment.
No option.
No miracle waiting in the wings.

So we did the only sacred thing left to do —
we held her.

My daughters,
my husband,
Estrella,
and I
knelt beside her in the dirt.
Hands on her warm face,
ears,
body.

Tears falling into her mane.

She looked at us with a depth that still lives inside me —
the look of a soul that finally knew
it would not die alone.

We whispered to her:

“You are safe.”
“You are loved.”
“You don’t have to fight anymore.”

And then it happened.

The air shifted.
A swirl of wind circled around us —
soft, warm, present.

Not frightening.
Not random.
A blessing.
A farewell.

It was her.

Her spirit passing
in motion.

And Estrella cried out —
a raw, grieving scream that split the silence.
Horses know when their friend is gone.
They mourn.
Just as we do.

Ceniza left the world on a whisper of wind
in the middle of lockdown,
but she did not leave in darkness.

She left in love.

The Animals — and the Awakening They Began

Only now, looking back,
I see what I could not see then:

The animals were part of my awakening.
Part of the path that would later lead me
to the mission I never expected —
the one for Liam.

Ceniza taught me to listen to dreams,
to intuition,
to the unspoken language between souls.

Estrella showed me resilience,
rebirth,
the power of a new beginning.

The horses taught my daughters how to heal.
They taught me how to trust what I feel.
They taught all of us
how love becomes sacred
when it’s shared across species.

Everything I lived with them —
the joy, the fear, the dreams, the grief —
prepared my heart
for the moment the universe would place another soul in my path,
another mission in my hands.

But that is a chapter waiting just ahead.

For now,
this one belongs to Ceniza.

Our girl.
Our Ash.
Running free.

💫 Maggie

The Afterlove Voice 💫

http://buymeacoffee.com/afterlovevoice/buy-coffee-4239781

Every “Coffee” supports my writing and creations.