A Coping With Grief Post
Back when I still had the house that LOVE built, I had an amazing garden. That’s not me Garden Goddess bragging. Strangers used to pull over and take photos of my flower beds. If they could have seen my organic raised vegetable beds in the back, I’m sure they’d have taken photos of those, too. Digging in the dirt and hanging out in my garden made me happy, and you could almost always find me there when I wasn’t at work.
Sleep, Creep, then Leap
So yeah, I love gardens. I seek them out in almost every city I visit. For those of you with brown thumbs, in gardening, there is a saying about transplants. “The first year it sleeps, the second year it creeps, and the third year it leaps.” I love this metaphor for my grief journey as I wrap up my third year as a survivor of the worst pain imaginable.
And lemme tell you, I’ve done all kinds of leaping this last year. There were many leaps of faith, including writing a book and making the decision to set up my home base in Boise. And then there was the literal leap of faith from a perfectly good airplane at 15 thousand feet.
Just like I did in my garden, I’ve cultivated memories, new friendships, and opportunities. And my favorite leaps are the leaps of joy that my heart remembered how to take.
I heard from many of my W sisters that the second year was harder than the first, but not a lot about the third year. So I’m putting this out there for those of you still in the first two years. This third year has been better than the first two. It’s also been hard and strange and sad and happy and wonderful and good and fun and most importantly, full of hope and optimism for the future. I’m keeping that in mind as I get ready to take a flying leap into Year Four.
The Wandering Widow
Live Now. Dream Big. Love Fierce.