Sunny’s Song

I had my horse, Sunny, for 22 years, and he carried me through many of life’s hardest moments. When my husband passed away, I leaned on Sunny out in nature as we walked together. After major surgeries, he carefully moved around me so he wouldn’t hurt me. We got caught in rainstorms, rode through clouds of butterflies, and listened to geese honking in the fall.

When Sunny passed at age 29 in May 2024, I felt like I was losing part of my soul. About a week later, I went to a greenhouse searching for a horse statue to create a memorial but couldn’t find one. Driving home, I cried so hard I could barely see the road. I pulled into a casino parking lot to collect myself and decided to go inside for lunch.

I had never been there before, so I snapped a photo of my parking space. Still holding my phone as I walked to the entrance, I heard music playing. The intro sounded familiar. Then I realized — it was “Sunny,” the version recorded in the mid-1960s.

Of all the millions of songs that could have been playing at that exact moment, it was his name: Sunny. I knew without a doubt it was a message. I hit record on my phone and saved it.

Sunny had given me other experiences during his life that felt beyond explanation, but this one was unmistakable — clear, immediate, and filled with love. Every time I listen to that recording, I still get chills.