Saturday, February 23, 2013

My Little Plant and I

Dear Mom,
             I wanted to share something, and you aren't around to call, so I am putting it out here on the blog.  It's about a plant.  A potted plant that I received at your funeral.  A former youth group member and her momma sent it to us when you died.  All the multitude of flowers that we received, and that filled our house after your wake, are now gone.  All but this one remaining potted plant.  It still has the original ribbon around the base that says comfort, and has grown a bit. It is beautiful, and full of life. 
  You know me, I do not have any semblance of green thumbery.  I have never kept a plant alive, that required care, more than two years in my life.  Just ask my best friend Auntie J, I killed almost all of her plants once when I was plant sitting, during a staywithhermomduringabrokenankle extended absence! The only other plant I did not kill was an amaryllis, which doesn't require frequent anything.  That plant turned into a game to see how long we could go without watering it.  It loved the abuse and being ignored.  The plant became a family joke. It was one I got for a Christmas/housewarming gift about 7 years ago! It has long since joined the plant retirement community in the sky.
   Any time a leaf turns brown and dies, I freak out.  I immediately start worrying if I have watered it too much?  Did I start the ball rolling, that sets in motion, the sequence of events that will lead to it's impending demise? I worry about this plant like I have never worried about anything green before.  It is strange to me how I worry about this plant.
   I silently look at it and greet it every morning.  In all my ridiculousness, I was thinking about why keeping this plant alive is so important to me.  I have come to the following conclusion.  I love this plant.  I love it like I have loved no other.  It symbolizes the last thing that you indirectly gave me.  The last thing that ties me to you.  I have no more mommy hugs, no more mommy kisses, no more giggles with my mother like we were little school girls, and no more fun girls day shopping outings with you, me and my daughter.  What I have, as I wrote in my last post, are Pictures and Memories.  It is the last thing that ties me to you(save all your stuff and family members).  I feel as if I fail this little plant, that I am somehow failing you.  I know it sounds ridiculous, but it's my comrade in arms.
   My little plant and I started this journey in grief together.  If the plant makes it, I guess I feel that so do I.  If I take care of it, then by living, it in a sort of therapeutic kind of way, takes care of me too.  I never 'got' plant people before, but now I kind of do.  I understand how an inanimate object can be a source of solace, companionship, and comfort.  So in honor of my plant of self realization, I will be naming it.  I will keep you posted on the naming of my little buddy!  I also may need to check out a bigger pot!

Wednesday, February 20, 2013

Pictures and Memories

Dear Mom,
                  it's been a while since I have written.  I have been competing in a photo contest online, and today's entry was a picture of you and me.  Taken in my early twenties when we were working in the kitchen at some Rainbow function or another.  We were happy as larks!  I had just met my future husband, you were a proud mamma, we were still involved in the youth group together, and we had each other. 
  The subject of the photo for today was suppose to 'envy'.  All I had to do was walk through the hallway in my new house, which you have never seen, or will never step foot inside of, and look at the picture gallery that I started hanging yesterday. I finally felt I was strong enough to hang all your pictures, and look at them every day. There it was, the picture of the happy little two of us. We were both so young, healthy, and in the prime of our lives.  I am envious of my younger self.  A younger self that still had time with you, and you always and forever by my side.  I miss you like crazy. 
  I called Nana this morning and caught up with her.  I was telling her that it doesn't hurt so bad all the time anymore, just when I let it out, like now.  I find myself wishing I could call you and discuss my distress at Hayden starting kindergarten, and tell you that the sign ups are next month! I just want to ask you if you could believe how quickly my baby is growing up.  I wish I could just dial your number and chat in the bathroom like we used to do, and talk about nothing in particular.  I wish I could share all the goings on in my life and my family's, the good and the bad.  I wish I still had your loving voice to tell me everything was going to be okay.
  I can still remember your voice and little things you used to say. I close my eyes and remember your spoken words, I can still hear them. I am visualizing the last hug you ever gave me on your own, I close my eyes, and I feel your arms around me, transported for a moment back to your bedroom.  Am I ridiculous for trying to remember your arms wrapped around me in love?  So much love.  I have been dreaming about you lately.  For a long time, you have not entered my dreams, maybe since a couple of months after the funeral.  I was glad a couple of nights ago when I dreamed of you.  It felt like home.  I dreamed of you the second night, and last night too.  Doing mundane 'us' things that we used to do.  Ring shopping!
  I wish you could see that daddy started the same tradition with Hayden, that he did with me when I was four.  He bought her the most beautiful Valentine's pink roses.  He bought me roses too.  The floral account is still in your name, and so your name was on the card.  I wish you were here to see. The last three days, I have fallen asleep with Hayden during naptime.  I have woken up just in time for the sunset every night.  The last three nights sunsets have been purple and pink. Coincidence? Maybe, maybe not.  I don't know anymore, but the thought has crossed my mind.
  So dear mommy, I miss you.  All the time.  I had the mother most others only dream of, and I miss you like crazy. Every. Single. Day.  I am thankful for the pictures taken and all of the memories we made together.  They are what I have now.
                                              I love you, forever in my heart-
                                                              your daughter