gardening & grief

Gary and I planted our summer garden this weekend. It was a lovely way to spend time together as a family- working hard, and getting dirty in the sunshine. I'm grateful that Gary works really hard to make our yard a happy place for our family. And Juliet loved it. I can't wait for my summer tomatoes, my very favorite of the summer crop. We also tried a couple new things this year- I'm eager to see if the corn does well.

As I pulled out our supplies from the garden shed, I found a big bag full of seeds, with a note attached from my mom. My mom- the organic gardening queen, who was raising her own vegetables, fruits, and even chickens, decades before it become hip and chic. Ahead of her time in her own special ways. When I worried and grieved that she hadn't been able to leave anything behind anything special for us, for me, I was wrong. It didn't come in the expected way, but this is what she left behind- a note that was 3 years old, but came at just the right time.

I miss her to the deepest depths of my soul. I feel the grief creaking in my bones like an unwanted visitor tip toeing up an old staircase.  It makes my stomach drop to the floor.

This garden, and every garden that Gary and I plant, is in her memory and her honor, and so my daughters will have a little piece of their grandma in their backyard. It's a special place. A sacred place.

Gary's baptism

January 29, 2012

For the record, this is my most favorite photo of Gary in the entire universe:

my amazing husband

Sweet moment I don't want to forget

Gary was gone for business for two nights this week. Normally, when he is here,  he gets up with Juliet in the morning and makes her breakfast while I tend to Audrey. And he and I both put Juliet to bed together- we read a story, say our prayers together, and kiss her good night.

During his absence this week, it was the first time Juliet was able to really express how much she recognized his absence and missed him.  When I got her out of her crib in the morning, her first words were "Dada! Dada?" And when she was done with breakfast, she padded through the kitchen in her footie pajamas to Gary's office, and knocked on the office door while saying "Dada! Dada!"  And this went on for the whole time he was gone.

I put her to bed as usual on that second night of his absence, and she went to sleep peacefully. (Have I mentioned what a lovely change this is? She actually walks over to her crib, raises her arms up to be lifted into the crib, and has a peaceful smile on her face as I tuck her in with her blanket and stuffed doggie. She falls asleep quietly with a smile, which is such a huge achievement in our household that even though it's been happening for a couple months now, I still pinch myself to see if I'm dreaming every time!)   So what was I saying...oh yeah...

So Gary came home that night around 10. About midnight, Juliet woke up screaming. This is highly unusual for her since she always sleeps through the night without a peep. And when she woke up, she was sreaming, "My Dada! My Dada!" over and over again.  Thankfully, Gary was home so he went in to comfort her. She fell asleep resting her head on his shoulder, whispering, "My Dada".

I feel so grateful that my daughter has become a "daddy's girl". What a precious moment between the two.

This has nothing to do with the story, but what a cute smile, on her first carousel ride.