Buenas Dias Travellers,
Apparently, I’m going to pen another gardening related post here today…because it’s good for you or me, or both..
To say life has been abit bumpy lately would be an understatement. To say the suicide of your former partner is life altering would be criminally inadequate. To say that grief just abruptly ends and life is as it once was would be a lie. But I’ll talk about the depths of that grief and all the things that people feel you shouldn’t say, or are too uncomfortable to say very soon.
Today I want about the other side and how it seems to seep into our world. I’m not talking about angels or heaven or demons and hell, I’m not talking about ghosts, or even reincarnation, but the rather subtle signs that appear before us to remind us of those who are longer on this plane. A simple thing that may mean they are still here. Saying hello. Because everyone that you have loved and lost is still with you. I feel very strongly that the energy of their love and their life remains anchored in this world, in us, until we die. I don’t think we are really each other.
Let me set the scene: I’m outdoors gardening the weekend before last and I’m feeling pretty good. It’s good work if you can find it. And you most certainly should try it. And yea, I’m gonna keep telling you that, so just give in and go start a garden…
Over the past few weeks the weight of Dave’s suicide has been squarely on top of me. As I’m sure it’s weighing on all those in his family and friends. I’m certain to not be the only survivor who is treading in that particular ocean. Looking for the black box from his crash. Knowing that none of us will ever find it.
I have been rummaging around in my mind trying to get my thoughts together about so many things that until this last week, I have felt like I’m not really here. Or if I even want to be here, but I decided to plant the garden because it’s what I do this time every year. Because it gives me hope, a real solid kind of hope. And there is nothing more reassuring than watching life grow right in front of you, and under your care.
So I’m doing the gardening, planting the plants, digging in the dirt, hauling around the rocks and mulling around in my mind, and for some reason I just glanced up and saw this…
I bought pansies last year, which I have never planted before, because they reminded me of my Grandma Biv, whose name is Vivian but I had a problem saying “V”s as a kid and for some reason I continued to call her that all my life. A term of endearment. She passed away a few years ago and last year, I felt moved to plant these little guys. Because she would have liked them. And because it made me feel like she was there in my garden.
Pansies are not for my patio, too much sun, not enough shade. They had a marvelously abundant and yet short life last year. But when I saw this little one, randomly growing in between the cement slabs, I just had the strongest feeling that is was her saying you’re not alone, you’ll be alright. AND if a pansy can grow in this crack where it never grew before, then you can grow into new ways that you’ve never grown before.
Just think how hard that little guy had to work to grow there!!
Mostly, it was just the feeling of being not alone. She was here with me. Watching me. Rooting for me.
And I realized in that moment, she is who I learned to love gardening from. Her backyard was my favorite as a kid. She didn’t grow veggies, but she had pots of pansies and peonies and other flowers. And bunnies and birds. And bird feeders. And wonderful lush green grass. And she was always delighted by all of their splendor. It was her unbridled joy about it all that I remember the most.
And just like that, my hope came back.
I should mention it’s growing right next to my little random determined strawberry plant, that also lives in this particular crack in the patio…and it appears another pansy is growing there as well…
And I could not be happier to see life so determined to find a way. Just look at it seeping through the cracks of this world.
Thanks for showing up again, same time tomorrow??
Have you ever felt like someone you lost has visited you here on Earth? Have you continued to find hope in this rather difficult period of human life? I hope so…
Most important, when are you planting your own garden, hmmm??