AUGUST

A garden is where hope grows & healing begins ...

I was doing fine until August.

August, I think, will always be the month that trips me up.

August … a lifetime ago … started out so good.

August, recently, ended so badly.

Let me rephrase that: August, for Bob, ended with him walking through the Pearly Gates in December; and walking all over God’s Heaven wearing a white robe, a gold crown, and golden slippers. It’s only down here on Earth, where what started in August, hurts badly.

I am doing my level best to keep my little corner of this world intact; I am doing all I know to do to keep the kingdom Bob blessed me with running smoothly and operating functionally. I am doing reasonably well in maintaining my Queendom without my King Bee alongside me.

And most days I do okay.

I was doing fine until August.

There are a LOT of memories tied to August: in 1974 Bob & I decided we couldn’t wait any longer to start our life together – we applied for, secured, and used the Marriage License. Also in 1974, our daughter was conceived sometime the first week of our marriage (between August 27^th and the 1^st week of September); Bob’s Birthday is August 30^th – that day is the greatest blessing to me, and the greatest pain to me: I was blessed the day Bob cleared his mother’s womb in 1949 … and I was pained the day he was admitted to the local ER; in 2018 and we were told he was dying: in 1949, his life was beginning, in 2018, his life was ending.

This August is the 2^nd August I’ve gardened in the garden beds he designed and built for me … and he is not here to enjoy the planting, tending, or harvesting of the gains his loves gifts are producing for me:

Moon in the day sky.

I counted 20 ears of corn starting on the stalks.

14 stalks of corn - 6 ft+ tall in the raised bed Bob designed & built for me. Doing MUCH better this year.

Dog poop in the back yard - I took pic and talked to candy about it. Doubt anything will be done about it ... dogs are not supposed to be off leash in the Park.

Herbs harvested & drying.

Thankful I had a loving husband. Bob built me garden boxes and rain barrel stands; he knew I loved to garden.

An industrious bee. As long as the bees stay away from me, they can stay.

Small Red Onions harvested to allow others to grow larger; 2 full-size mini Eggplants.

Chives. Needs to be picked clean, and clipped for freezing.

Very small salad gleanings. The lettuce is cut-&-come again lettuce that is just about played out. The tomatoes are just starting to ripen on the vines.

Harvesting in small measures add up to big Winter enjoyable edibles: Parsley up front; Collards, Beet Greesn & Swiss Chard behind parsley - and Carrots in back. All waiting to be prepared for the freezer.

I am thankful for my garden – my garden keeps me busy, which keeps me sane when the missingness is great.

I am getting out and doing things, so inactivity is not the problem. Even with covid – I have not allowed the hypersensitive covid hysteria to slow me down at all. Inactivity is not the problem.

The problem is that Bob is not here. That is the problem.

I cannot be busy enough to change the fact that Bob is not here: he will never be here again. Going for a drive, visiting with friends, meeting new people, shopping, going for a walk, engaging in a hobby, ect.-ect.-ect. … is not going to change my situation.

I don’t dwell on that fact; like I stated earlier, most of the time I do okay – I have learned over the past 19 months/29 days/15 hours & 24 mins how to move forward and “do okay”. I may be creeping forward at a comfortable pace; but at least I am moving forward. Some widows and widowers get stuck on shoulders of the highway of life – I am often veering off one exit ramp after another looking for adventure to spice my life up a bit … but always, always at a comfortable pace. I’m not in a race: I am not in competition with anyone. I am just trying to build a life without the love of my life.

In this crazy upside-down world that has been turned on it’s ear due to the demoncrat political insanity, blatant violent racism, and covid fearmongering; I miss the stable and steady comfort of my husband. Bob was my strength; Bob was my anchor. I could count on him opening his arms to me, holding me, and assuring me everything would be okay – and I would feel securely okay in his arms. Bob’s presence in my life could always make everything feel okay; even, and especially, when things were not okay.

And now things are not okay; and he is no longer here.

And no amount of busyness; no amount of getting out of the house; no amount of letting my mind vegetate as I go about my business tending to my vegetable gardening area is going to change that. That so not going to change.

Aside from missing my husband … I miss me.

I miss the me I was with him – only with him because he brought ‘me’ into being. With Bob I was soft. I was romantic. I was spontaneous: with a sense of fun – I had a lightness of being when I was with Bob.

I miss Bob.

I miss me.

I miss US.

Over the past year – from last August to this August – I have begun to create a new life for myself separate from the life I shared with Bob. I know I will continue to create and reshape that new life until the day I, too, am clothed in a white robe with golden slippers on my feet, walking all over God’s Heaven. And I know, that down here on Earth, there are people new to my new life that like me as I am; and appreciate the person I am becoming separate from Bob in my new solo lobo life.

But I also live with my past life – the life I shared with Bob: that life will always be a permanent part of my new life. I am learning how to splice these 2 lives together – I have never watched Bob splice metal lines together, as he did on occasion when he was a logger; but he told me how he did it, and I remember … so that is how I am strengthening this life I must live, and live successfully if I am to live a fully healed life.

Here’s the kicker: even as I do all these things that I must do – even if most of the time I am doing them with a grateful grace … there is a heaviness I carry: a heaviness that I cannot just put down some place and walk away from. It is a heaviness of ‘knowing’ that cannot be undone. It is a heaviness in my heart, in my thoughts, and in my body that makes my heart hurt – my thoughts sluggish – and my body drag like I am wearing cement shoes that makes it extremely difficult to move forward.

Most of the time I do okay.

I stay busy.

I try not to overthink.

I remind myself that I am Bob’s Queen.

Queens do not retreat.

But there are days that do weigh me down; and I am exhausted at the end of those days. I am exhausted like I’ve engaged in a triathlon race – Bob and I used to watch those things on TV, and they were brutal: some days I do feel like I am going through a brutal time of things.

August through December is going to be brutal.

And I am thinking moving forward and onward is going to take some time.

On days like that – days like today – the colorful evening sky sooths …

Evening sky over the Park.