Gardening and Grief

Gardening and Working through the Grieving Process

My father died May 1, 2015. He hadn't planned to do so, of course. Ever since then, I have been working through the five-stage grieving process--or seven-stage, depending on which model you choose to observe.

While I've been tending the container garden area, the main garden lies almost dormant this summer -- except for the asparagus plants and what I affectionately call "mystery squash": various squash seeds were started, and I failed to label them.

While I have been mourning my father, the main garden, sadly, has suffered from neglect: the weeds have taken over, the soil has not been enriched lately, and I've not planted anything new. Yes, El Niño has certainly played a role, with the torrential downpours that have occurred until recently, but still: grief has invaded the main garden.

By Angelsharum (Own work) [CC BY-SA 3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

As I move into the acceptance phase of grieving, it is time to reclaim the garden.

In the cool of the morning or in the evening, accompanied by the cool, reassuring presence of Spirit, it is time to pull weeds. Yes, Ralph Waldo Emerson did say the following about weeds: "What is a weed? A plant whose virtues have not yet been discovered." Be that as it may, as I cast away weeds, I cast away regrets, the "might-have-beens," to be left with the good, loving memories of my father.

It is time to feed the soil, to nourish it, for fulfilling the promise of a vibrant, vital autumn garden: a second harvest and a second chance.

It is time to begin today.

By tending the garden, I tend my soul as well as my father's legacy: the lessons of love I have learned from him and his contributions towards making the world a better place. In his memory, I till the ground and plant the seeds of a promising tomorrow. Namaste and Blessed Be.