I love the way this daisy unfolds. See how the yellow petals unfold into white petals?
Nature and gardening is miraculous. I never take it for granted.
There is so much to see in a garden. Birds and butterflies and lady bugs. And sometimes at night, lightning bugs.
The other night I was just outside the patio door and saw one lone lightning bug. I immediately thought of Abi.
How silly and fun she was. How she monopolized my attention and thought I belonged to her. How she gazed at me with unadulterated love in her eyes.
If she could, she would blink in the darkness to say “Mom, I’m here. See me???”
I immediately stopped moving and watched it flicker in the darkness, overcome with emotion.
This is what grief is. The blending of sadness and life and moving forward and laughing again and sometimes, seeing something that moves us back into the past.
This process is what I’ve come to think of as bittersweet. Pleasure tinged with sadness or pain.
I think of lemonade. Or sweet pickles.
I think of my sweet little Abi saying goodbye but letting me know it’s okay.
“I see you, my sweet baby.”
I had not intended to write about this when I began writing today’s post. I planned on writing a happy go lucky post about gardening and nature. And then these words flowed onto the page.
But that is how grief is. You are fine for awhile and then you suddenly dissolve into tears.
I guess it’s appropriate that tears burn as they roll down your face. Don’t you think?
It is the squeezing out of sadness, like squirting mustard from a plastic container. It is sweet memories mixed with sorrow.
And you just never know when something will squeeze more tears from you, though you’ve already cried bucketfuls.
So please be patient with me as I go through these necessary stages.
I picked another ripe cucumber and a pepper when Charlie and I were out for our first morning stroll this morning.
I saw that more gardenias are blooming.
I walked around and could hardly believe what happens in my garden space overnight.
At night I brush Charlie. He loves it. Sweet unhurried moments between us. I gently brush him and feel his body relax under the soft bristles.
It is part of our new ritual. The forming of rituals between us.
Life never stands still. Not for a moment. We have to grab onto the glimpses of lightning bugs. Cherish those moments in time.
Walk around and be fully aware of the simple beauty that surrounds you. It might be a new bloom or a male cardinal singing his beautiful song high up in a nearby tree.
Some people don’t take the time to do these things. They’re busy and rush through life chained to the ticking of the clock.
And the little things are so very important for both our physical and mental health.
Please don’t feel that you have to keep writing comments saying how sorry you are for my loss. It is not necessary.
I know that all of you are there for me. I feel your caring and concern and I so appreciate you all.
Just let me write the words while it all sinks in. Let me grieve and just be there, you wonderful readers who have stuck by me through thick and thin.
With loss first there is shock and immediate pain and the feeling that life will never be the same. Finally comes acceptance.
Life goes on.
There is a line from the Romeo and Juliet play by William Shakespeare. Juliet is saying goodnight to her beloved Romeo. Their sad parting is also sweet because it makes them think about the next time they will see each other.
And if life does not intervene in a tragic way and take someone that you love from you, then you will say goodnight again.