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Grief is an odd thing. An absolutely healthy reaction to profound loss, grief is shunned by too-many people in western culture. Misled people feel that, by holding in their grief–they come across as being “strong.”
The enlightened view of grief is that, one way or another–it is going to come out, with or without your permission. Held in, grief can eat away at a human soul and emotions, until there’s more turmoil within than if it had been right out there, expressed, at the beginning. Wailing, crying, sleeplessness–it’s all good, in The Big Picture.
There’s personal grief, and then there’s collective grief–that sense of loss when a community loses a treasured member. This tribute is about both a personal loss and that of a community.
The personal loss of which I’m thinking tonight is that of Gary Contessa, who lost a valued friend on Tuesday morning when Ed O’Brien–a dedicated regional newsman–lost his battle against cancer. Gary and Ed had been good friends for several years: Ed was a major fan and supporter of horse racing, and it was through this shared passion that they met, and an immediate friendship was struck that very night:
“I first met Ed at a New York Thoroughbred Breeders’ dinner, where I was honored as Trainer of the Year. He was guest speaker, but wanted to just talk to me and Jen. From that moment we were very good friends. I became a fixture on his opening day at Saratoga show…we were very good friends.”
Just as goes the expression, that the — (dash) on a gravestone stands for many years of living that can’t be described in one simple line, so the … (ellipsis) in Gary’s statement…stands for years of friendship. Common passion for horses, and horse racing. Shared concern for the aftercare of Thoroughbreds following their careers. The … represents so much that transpired between the two men’s hearts and minds…a friendship founded on horses…centered on horses…grounded in mutual respect and much laughter.
Gary lost a dear friend this week, and I am so sorry for his loss. Of course I care about the loss felt by Ed’s daughter, Jackie, and his siblings. But Gary’s my friend, and knowing that he’s sad makes me sad. I understand grief, intimately.
And the sport of horse racing–well, we fans and professionals in the sport (most notably, media professionals) lost a community member and colleague. When he was a child, Ed became a fan of Jim McKay. Through that admiration grew his own aspirations to become a television journalist and to become active in horse racing. I have no doubt that Ed and Jim watched the Maryland Million today–the series that McKay created, which Ed followed closely.
I attended Ed’s wake yesterday; I might not have gone, on my own, but I went to represent Gary, as he couldn’t make it. I’m grateful that I had the opportunity to be there, for–let me tell you–I was completely taken aback by what I saw there. Ed had been cremated, and the box containing his ashes was on a table in the place where a casket would be in a “standard” wake. Above the box was an enormous photo of Ed, standing on the second floor of the Saratoga Race Course Clubhouse, his back to the track. And, much to my surprise and, yes, my delight–his box of ashes featured a painting of a horse race, horses running straight at you, the observer.
Who takes a picture at a wake? Of course, I did. I just had to document it, that this fine fan of our sport and horseman was so in love with horses and racing that he wanted the world to see it on his final dwelling place.
I’d spoken with JoAnn Pepper, who owns Cabin Creek Farm and manages Old Friends at Cabin Creek–The Bobby Frankel Division, earlier in the day. Ed’s obit requested that, in lieu of flowers, donations are given to Old Friends at Cabin Creek. This surprised me, when I read it on Thursday. I hadn’t realized that Ed had been involved with the ministry to retired Thoroughbreds–but JoAnn confirmed that, indeed, he had been very good to the farm for many years, and was out there often to help and hang out with their beautiful retirees.
The things you don’t know about people, when your only association with them is as an audience member: I knew Ed O’Brien only because I watched him on TV news for so many decades. Gary Contessa knew him so much better, as a trusted friend. Fans of horse racing knew him as a comrade. And the horses at Old Friends–they knew him as a pal, a savior, a contributor to their welfare.
There can be no better epitaph to write on the stone that marks a person’s final resting place: He saved a horse’s life. Indeed, Ed O’Brien–newsman, race fan, friend, horseman–loved the sport, loved the horses, and put his money, his time and his talents into helping to retire those same horses gently and lovingly. This, to me, is the best legacy of all. God rest your soul, Ed O’Brien. Good night, and good luck.
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Per Ed’s obituary:
In lieu of flowers, memorial contributions in memory of Ed may be made to Old Friends at Cabin Creek, 483 Sand Hill Road, Greenfield Center, NY 12833. http://www.oldfriendsatcabincreek.com/
Ed’s full obituary:
http://www.legacy.com/obituaries/timesunion-albany/obituary.aspx?n=edward-eddie-francis-obrien-ed&pid=176114973#sthash.YaxfYyE3.dpuf