My reaction to the day, anniversary of the last day of David’s life, is once again different than it was last year. My sadness is not gut wrenching. I can make the decision not to be miserable. I did things today -- well, gardening and going to the swimming pool. I am planning to take Julia to fireworks tonight. Impossible two years ago, pretty indifferent about celebration last year. This will be the first year that I will not have someone to help with Julia today or tomorrow. And that is ok.
And I have a new plan for tomorrow.
During the last two years, I have holed up with Julia, ordered take out Chinese or Indian food and watched a new Myazaki movie. Tomorrow, we have a few friends over, eat together and watch the Myazaki movie that I bought for this year. It is not a big gathering and very safe with friends who would not think less of me if I went to my room to be alone. Although I don’t expect that to happen.
I want to court happiness and joy and I have to begin somewhere. Close friends, food and a movie is a start. Of course, this newest level of non-misery is already a few weeks old. Two weeks ago Sunday, when I felt grateful in the sunshine in the pool was my first notice of it. I am enjoying the water aerobic class a few times a week and I do like just sitting by the pool typing like I am doing right now.
And the garden is coming along. I make a weekly trip to my big box store to see what perennials are marked down and bring home a few and find places for them. I am slowly emptying two garden beds in the front of the house -- one to turn back to grass and the other to replant with some plan -- and clearing back beds of weeds and invasive plants and moving extra perennials to empty spaces. I am beginning to just “see” what plants belong where -- a connection with the space that was completely lost to me. I am planting with the knowledge that I will not see much results for a year or two but imaging the results. Imaging future. Perhaps that what I mean when I say I am gardening again -- taking up the optimist viewpoint of a gardener. Plant for next year because next year will come.
The tomato plant in the new raised bed in the backyard has doubled in size in the last week. The basil is also doing well. I potted up a few herbs and another tomato plant for the front deck. I am glad that I thinned out my clay pots last year and glad that I kept my favorites. I want to bring some of the herbs inside in the fall. I want plants inside again.
And I am back to sorting papers and pictures. Getting the ten boxes of slides out of the house jogged my initeria. Maybe changed my initeria is more accurate -- motion will continue once started. Perhaps I will finally mail out copies of David’s book to friends and family pictures to relatives. It has taken a long time to get back to that work. Again, it feels like the right time.
What comes to mind is the direction that seems part of every lesson -- trust the process. Let go of to-do lists, let go of step by step goals. Make an intention, aim for the outcome, do the work and let it unfold. Pretty difficult for me but I am learning.
I wrote to a friend of a friend, a neuroscientist and meditation teacher, asking for advice about my long term project. By the time I was finished with the email, I almost knew his answer. His gentleness and respect was very welcomed. His answer -- let the practice lead me. He didn’t say not to rush, but that was between the lines. As was, trust the process. Perhaps that was the answer that the Waisman woman whose answer felt so cruel and dismissive months ago meant to convey. I reacted to her tone. That alone clouded the message. I am very grateful for this friend of a friend.
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