White peonies are probably my favorite flower to photograph. This one named Shirley Temple is gorgeous don’t you think? They are in full bloom right along with their magenta counterparts. It’s hard not to be in love with them.
This has been a better week than last week, no ranting, just business in the garage and garden. I’m in the divide hostas part of my spring. I should have done this weeks ago, but I didn’t have it in my head until this week to start a whole new bed with them! As my yews grow ever more ginormous bare areas are increasing at the edge of the lawn. By the end of this week they will be filled in with whatever I can dig up from the front without killing them. It’s either going to be fantastic or silly. I really don’t care which.
I made a breakthrough this week. I listened to music! I started with The Voyage of Bran by Maire Breatnach. It is a beautiful compilation of melodies meant to tell the story of the Irish legend of Bran. Sort of the Irish version of Homer. We were given the CD by a friend as a parting gift twenty seven years ago when we were moving to Minnesota and it became an instant favorite.
I graduated from that to our Simon and Garfunkel channel on Pandora and then Linda Ronstadt. A few tears were shed, but not the bad kind, the good kind where happy memories overshadow the sad ones. At one time so many of Jimmy’s favorites played in a row that I can only assume he was providing a concert just for my benefit. Testing my resolve. I have to admit that I Will Always Love You by Dolly, Emmy Lou and Linda almost brought me to my knees, but it didn’t kill me. And a few tears were expected in this trial run. I believe I passed the test.
I know it may seem strange to you, but I think I am finally coming to grips with his death. Time helps. But so does love and reflection. So does the continued support of friends and family. So does writing this blog. So does the ugly or beautiful fact (you decide) that life goes on. Food needs eating, dishes need washing, lawn needs mowing, hostas need transplanting. Peonies need their once a year picture taken.
A friend whose husband died several years ago texted this week. Seeing her husband’s face reflected in her stepson’s face opened the floodgates for grief and took her by surprise. And it does take you by surprise. I found a box Jim had labeled Jim’s rocks and treasures when I was cleaning the garage on Wednesday. It contained medals on colorful ribbons from MS bike rides and Vintage Rugby events and rocks. Many rocks in many packages. Jim’s treasures! How silly is it when a cache of rocks can make you stop with a catch in your throat and a tick in your heart?
I don’t think there is a cure for grief and longing, but last week I experienced some respite. I am grateful for that. I will see what this week brings. More good things I hope.