5 of 68

Write now Article Tools

My Mother's Garden

I walked silently out of the hospital, as if in slow motion. My tears burned as they streamed down my face. I was unaware of the people around me, even my husband. I assumed he was walking slightly behind me, but did not know for sure. I was numb, somehow disconnect from my soul. My world as I once knew it was gone.

I never fully prepared myself for the death of my mother. She was in a coma, and had been unresponsive for several weeks, so I expected it. I thought I was prepared. Nothing was further from the truth; maybe there is no way to prepare for something as tragic as death. She took her last breath as I held her in my arms.

Over the next few days, I was stricken with grief. I was not sure how I could possibly make it through life without her. I was hoping that some how, I could find a way to ease my pain. I was in desperate need of an outlet to release my sorrow.

During the many hours that I spent thinking of her, I reminisced of the good times. Memories of her love for flowers came back to me. She loved all flowers, but her favorite was red and white roses. Without hesitation, I immediately began planning "my mother's garden".

The chosen spot was a quiet area behind my house, with plenty of shade. There was just the right amount of sunshine in the morning, to sit and enjoy a good book. In the afternoon, the trees, just to the left of the garden, would provide the shade needed to relax without the sun beating down on me.

Planting the garden was great therapy for me. It kept my mind busy as I focused on the layout and type of flowers to plant. I chose four rose bushes. Two red ones on the sides and two white ones in the middle. The rose bushes stood as the background of the garden.

In front of the roses, I planted an array of colorful flowers. They were mostly red and purple because those were my mom's favorite colors. I guess that is why I love the color purple so much. I spent a week planting and rearranging the garden to make it just right.

I spent many quiet times in my mother's garden when life seemed unbearable. There were time's, especially in the first year, that I would sit in front of it and cry. I would hug my knees to my chest and rock back and forth. It proved to be the perfect place for me to release my sorrow.

It is hard to believe that nine years have passed. My mother's garden stands just as beautiful today, as it did the day I planted it. I now spend less time crying and mourning in the garden and more time treasuring the wonderful memory of my mom. It gives me great joy to walk out, look at the garden, and feel the bond that we once knew.

Learn more about this author, Wendy Pettit.
Click here to send this author comments or questions.

Add your voice

Know something about Healing in the garden: How my garden helped me?
We want to hear your view. Write now!