Friday, 13 September 2013

The garden; marking the passing of time

Time is so relative, isn't it.

It feels like a decade since Catherine left, but today it is only 2 years and 5 months, exactly.

I don't know where the time has gone; how long or short it has been. It is immeasurable.

For Pax, it's over 31 years. That doesn't make any sense. I miss him!!

The lifespan of Pax was short, just about 3 years and 5 months, which is roughly how long we have lived in this house. It is a "new build". We moved in at the beginning of February 2010.

This was our back garden when we moved in. It's a blank canvas, rather like a person's life at birth. It exists in time and space. There are limits to its length and width--I suppose that might mean that's as far as their life will go. There is a foundation of soil and grass, rather like the baby's genetic inheritance.


It's quite a small garden space, as British gardens go, but it still has potential. Here it is today, 13 September 2013


I think it looks bigger. We've packed so much in -- it's been one of my main therapies.

Catherine gave us the bird feeder (in front of the conifer) as a moving-in present.
We put up the summer house after Catherine passed away. That became my little garden sanctuary.
The lavender bushes (back wall and front right) were small bushes we brought with us from our previous house(s). Some grew and multiplied; some didn't survive. The apple trees (right side, difficult to see) were also presents from Catherine. This year they're covered with young apples that are hopefully going to ripen.
The centre piece has a  pond with 9 goldfish. Most of the flowers still in bloom grew from seeds. We get loads of sparrows virtually living in the garden now. We also have ducks, a dove and badgers, but they're made of stone and painted. You can't see the greenhouse (hard to get a full view) but it's full of tomatoes.

I love our little garden, with all its imperfections. I spend a lot of time in it, and I enjoy its company. No amount of photos or little video clips can properly express it. I can't share with you the scent of the flowers nor the feeling of peace and safety when I'm sitting in the summer house. Yes, a lot has happened in 3 1/2 years, more than anyone can understand, much more than even I can recall.

A lot happened in Pax's little life of 3 1/2 years. There are pictures and videos, memories I can tell you about, as well memories that I have now lost. He was here; the walls of his garden were very tight (3 1/2 years only). His life was short but precious. He is loved.

A lot happened in Catherine's life, just short of 31 years. I can't begin to express it all. But she was here. She was loved; she IS loved.

What is our life? Is it like the empty space of a new garden, more or less a blank canvas that we work with? How much difference does it make if it covers acres of territory or is just small and limited? I'd rather have a big rolling garden like this one we visited last week in Wales, but that is not one on my life's possibilities. (And how many people could ever have a garden like this?)


Bodnant Garden, near Conwy in North Wales

So I've worked with what I have, and made the best of it. But there have been factors that I can't control:

- The foundations, or genetic inheritance. --We have some nasty perennial weeds in our garden that were no doubt in the soil when we got here. We're never going to get rid of them; they go too deep. I couldn't prevent my children having genetic anomalies.

- The climate and vagaries of the weather. --We can water the garden when it's a hot dry spell, but we can't bring out the sun, nor keep away the torrential rain, nor cover it with fleece to keep it warm in winter. I couldn't protect my children from all difficulties and sorrows.

I've done my best with my garden; sometimes when the plants aren't doing well or the roses are attacked by aphids I'm discouraged and feel that my best is never good enough.

And that is the hardest part of my life now; feeling that no matter how much I love and loved my children, no matter how much I tried to care for them, it wasn't good enough. People tell me that's it not the case, but it's hard to move away from that feeling. Hard to be alive when my children aren't. But that is where I am, and there is little I can do to change it.




Tuesday, 10 September 2013

Dreams

Recipe for a better start to the day: Dreaming of Catherine as a little girl, playing and happy and so full of life.

Recipe for a worse day: Having TV-induced nightmare, waking up trembling, then realising that the reality is worse than the nightmare. Both of my children are gone.

Can't control dreams. You know what I'd choose.


Sunday, 1 September 2013

2 candles

Every night I light 2 candles, one for Pax and one for Catherine. I leave them burning until I'm ready to (try to) go to sleep. Then I pray for the children, or I talk to them, and blow them out.

I keep the matches I use to light the candles, eventually burning them, and keeping the ashes.

Yes I have a box of ashes from the matches from the candles.

I Have many physical reminders of my children all around me, and I bet some people reading this might wish me to "move on ".

But it doesn't make any difference whether I have these comforting little rituals. My sorrow and loss is not going away. I can be somewhere completely new, watching something I've never seen before --like yesterday at the gymnastic display at a country fair, and My thoughts go to my kids and the experiences they did and didn't have.

That's the story of a bereaved mother.


Catherine with the dog we got her. His name was Barney and he was a good companion until she was nolonger able to take care of him.
 Catherine aged about 2, having a run around with a ball.

Pax feeding pigeons, about 2