Linking up this post with The Gypsy Mama Five Minute Friday, and I’m terrible at following rules…. but here goes.
Today’s Word: Loss.
I have lamented over my rose bed. In the past two years I’ve dug up and tossed into the recycling bin almost one dozen rose plants.
My once robust and rosy plants couldn’t take what winter has mercilessly thrown at us these past few years.
It’s hard to imagine winter on this July morning all blue skied and jeweled, sprinkler spraying like dazzling diamonds over beds of green. But, a few years ago, we survived the winter it snowed so much (90 inches!) everything was closed for a full week, twice. My kids and I combated cabin fever with copious television watching and hot-cocoa.
The next winter was terribly cold with a snow-meltoff cycle that confirmed that Old Man Winter truly has personality disorder. Two floods in our basement that year and another few roses bit the dust.
I have a rose bush that I purchased as a bare-root stick in 1994, the year we moved into our first house in a sketchy neighborhood. Round with the growing life of our first child, I worked like a crazy woman to transform our little lot of waist-high weeds into the garden of my dreams. I rolled out sod, I moved rocks. I bought, with a little money, plants. One of them was this rose, Peace.
I moved that rose that flourished on the western side of my first home along with hundreds of other plants, to our second home during a sweltering heat wave in July 2001.
For several years, Peace and her rose-garden friends thrived and made eating al fresco a delight. But those winters came and regardless of my efforts, I just couldn’t make Peace grow.
Loss is like that. It’s out of our control, really. We do our best, we hope, we wait. Sometimes the miracle happens. Sometimes it doesn’t.
And as I was lamenting to my mom about all my dead roses, she said, “Honey, you just have to pull them out to make room for something new. That’s all you can do.”
I can’t make Peace grow.
Loss on any level is difficult to frame neatly into rows, we can’t arrange it to work by our timetables. We are never really prepared for it, for that spade to hit the soil of our hearts’ pain.
When you have suffered loss, of relationship, security, a job, a loved one, how do you reconcile it in your soul?