I was in high school when I first heard the timeless question: Is it better to have loved and lost, or never to have loved at all?

In blythe, teenage-romantic fashion, I believed I knew the answer. Of course, I hadn’t really loved yet. Hadn’t really lost.

Last week was hard for our region. A beloved rider and friend lost her horses in a tragic accident. Many of us have been there, one way or another. We wear the ache like an old barn coat, heavy and familiar.

Is it better to have loved and lost?

I still think I know the answer. The answer is still the same.

But it isn’t black and white anymore. It isn’t even gray. The answer is blood red: It is better to have loved and lost, but not because the pain was “worth it” for the joy of having.

It is better because when we lose what we have loved, we do not lose it all. We keep the gifts, even as we mourn the giver. Time doesn’t ease the pain, but it polishes our treasures even more.

This is for the lost endurance horses, and the hearts in which they gallop on.