As I was picking beans last Saturday morning, a man came up behind me because he wanted to meet the person gardening behind his house. He would also like the corn stalks when I'm done for his friend's cows. Apparently it's a great treat for them. I know this man, his name is Steve. I haven't seen him in over a year and a half. He didn't recognize me at first as he is getting a bit old, 85 I think. When I told him my name and gave him a big hug, he remembered right away. His wife died last year and she was one of my closest friends.
Last year I experienced some emotional growth. That's what I'm calling it now anyway. It seemed that devastating news came about every two weeks. It began with learning my very dear friend would be dying from cancer. I felt privileged to be able to help her through it, but it was sad nonetheless and I miss her. I missed her terribly when life seemed a bit hopeless last year. Cheryl is the first person I thought of calling when things got tense. She'd have been at every court date she could, sitting next to me and reminding me things always work out. She'd remind me that things don't always work out the way we'd like, but they do work out. The sun usually comes out, in theory anyway, we do live in the Northwest.
One of the reasons we began the big garden was to work out some of the stress and tension we were under last year. It sure works, we also didn't realize how much we love the gardening. That's turned out to be a huge blessing that will hopefully continue for a long time. It's a very large community garden, surrounded by houses on either side. Turns out since Cheryl died, her husband Steve's eyesight has gotten weak and he can't drive. He's moved into town. He has been living directly behind my garden since last year. He says he comes out and looks around it every night. He loves our garden.
I felt comforted that someone I love has been there when we weren't. Sometimes when I'm working out there, I've had some conversations with Cheryl. I felt a little more like she has really been there. After he left I had a good cry. It was a grateful cry, kind of a cleansing cry. I love ya Cheryl, glad you are part of my life.
No comments:
Post a Comment