by Alice Whitehall

Created on: August 31, 2010   Last Updated: November 12, 2010

My brother's death threw our whole family into chaos. He had called me the night before, I think to say goodbye now that I think back on it. The next morning my poor mother called to say "I think Michael's killed hisself". As I raced to the scene of the crime I held onto her phrase "I think" because it still gave me hope that he was possibly still alive.

I moved out of my small apartment and in with my mother that same day. She needed someone to take care of her now that my brother was dead. That was in January. That same month I began to plan my garden of life.

I built a raised bed. I had never done any carpentry before in my life, but I was determined to do it. I hauled bag after bag of potting soil, manure and peat moss in the trunk of my car to dump into that wooden frame. If my brother had been there he would have done the heavy work for me! I was so angry with him!

Finally the spring came and I planted six tomato plants and one pepper plant in that raised bed. Day after day I watered and nurtured those plants all the while thinking of my brother, asking him why, why, why? Working in my little garden I would have a daily visitation and argument with him. It was as if we were working this garden and our relationship out together.

The summer came and the tomato plants grew enormous! I couldn't pick them fast enough. I gave them away and each time I gave them away I would tell the person, "This is from me and my brother, Michael".

As the summer gave way to fall I continued to plant and experiment with different seeds and plants that I had never grown before, all the while talking to my brother. Then the winter came. It had been a year since he had taken his life and left me to deal with the problems he left behind.

The second spring I planted a larger garden and the arguments and anger I had expressed slowly gave way to looking forward to visiting with him as I dug into the soil. The seeds that we planted together emerged into new life and the more pleasant memories of my childhood with him began to take the place of the grief I had experienced the previous spring.

It is now the summer of the second year since my brother took his life and we are still digging into the earth together. It seems my life began again two and half years later in our little garden. The earth has begun to heal my sadness as we dig into the soil together and I slowly begin to forgive him, and myself.

As the years pass, our little garden will continue to grow and nurture me, and hopefully him. Through it I have begun to find forgiveness for myself and for him. This garden of life is becoming a garden of love, compassion, and pleasant memories of Michael.

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