S & J Serenity Garden

S & J Serenity Garden

S & J Serenity Garden is the name I chose for the Memorial Garden.  Of course initials S & J are for Steve and Jeff.    It has taken me months to get to this point…you know…to be able to sit and reflect.  Reflect on the past and contemplate my future, or should I say the unknown.  Many tears have been shed while working on this garden, while shoveling dirt out of Steve’s truck (AKA ‘The Beast’), while stomping down the ground, and while sitting.  Although I have worked my butt off on this garden…I have finally reach a point where I can sit back, relax, enjoy this garden, and think…think about all that has happened in my life.  My initial goal was to reach this point for summer, but oh well…that just did not happen.  Oh well, it doesn’t matter, even though this Memorial Garden is not quite finished, it is done enough for me to sit and appreciate its beauty thus far.  It is done enough for me to sit on one of the benches and reflect.

I remember how anxious I was to unload my first truckload of topsoil.  And was shocked…actually astonished, to have to admit my body had broken down so much in the last year and a half.  I could not believe how weak I had become.  “Weak!  Me? Not possible”, is what I kept telling myself, “I can’t be weak, I have never been weak.”  But I was definitely nowhere as strong as I used to be, and I had to force myself to keep working…shovelful after shovelful of dirt until every bit of dirt was removed from the bed of the Beast.  I was using this topsoil to form my background mound for future flowers.  So when I say I unloaded…I didn’t just unload…I spread the dirt where I thought it was needed most and then I shaped the hill for my background.  I then stomped the dirt down, over and over, added more dirt and again stomped it down.  And then the next day I drove to retrieve the second yard of soil, and again unloaded the dirt shovelful by shovelful, until the entire two yards were in place and the hill was shaped just the way I wanted…and then I reshaped it again because I decided it was still not quite right, not large enough, not quite balanced.  I had my grandson help me move my statue (my 700 lb. statue) so she could be more centered, more balanced.  We only had to slide her a foot toward the center, but what a job that turned out to be!  But when my background was done, and my lady centered, what a great feeling this was…getting this back portion of my garden finished was exhilarating for me.  It made me feel renewed!   Made me feel like I had come alive again!  It gave me the incentive I needed to keep moving forward!

I was now ready to start working on the main patio area.  This little corner of my yard had been roped off months before.  I roped it off so my grandson would know where to start clearing grass.  Jake started clearing grass for me…but it didn’t take him long to realize it was not easy work, so he gave up on it.  I then paid a friend to help me clear the remaining grass.  Once the grass was cleared I was able to start my work.  Over and over I tilled the ground until it was soft enough to rake, taking out roots and rocks in the process, and trying to get it as even as possible.  Every day I raked dirt this direction and then that direction until I thought it was perfect…and then again I made it bigger, more balanced with the new mound in the background.  Once I had the size correct and the ground somewhat level I started tampering down the soil with a tool Dwaine made for me.  The tool consisted of a metal pole which was attached to the center of a solid metal plate weighing nearly 20 pounds.  The pole stands straight up about 4 feet from the metal plate.  I pull the tool toward the sky, then I let it drop full force onto the newly tilled soil until the soil was packed firmly.  Over and over I lifted the pole and let it drop until finally, after days of packing down the ground…I felt it was ready to start bringing in road mix. 

Over the next week I brought in four truckloads of road mix…and unloaded it all, shovel by shovel spreading it just so, until I was done with each load.  After each load was unloaded, I raked the topsoil into the entire area, putting more in areas where it was needed.  And with each unloading of road mix, I tampered down the ground using Dwaine’s tool.  Over and over I raked, tampered, watered.  And again raked, tampered, watered, and tampered some more until I could no longer lift the tool for the day.  After the third truckload was half empty I flopped down on Steve’s bench exhausted and crying…”I don’t think I can do this baby,” I cried aloud through heavy sobs.  I was talking to Jeff, crying…crying because he was gone and crying because I was too weak to complete my task.  Jeff instantly sent me a sign (I wrote about this in detail in an earlier blog)…and I could almost hear him saying aloud, “You can do it Mom.”  This vision sent me by Jeff was the remedy I needed to rejuvenate the energy needed to keep working…so I continued to shovel road mix out of the Breast…and then drove to pick up another load.

 

When the road mix was completely firm and the ground covered with weed cloth, it was time to start adding paving sand.  I went to and from the rock place to pick up four more loads of paving sand.  Again my days were as before, unloading shovelful by shovelful, tampering, watering, tampering, watering, and reflecting…over and over, day by day.  As I shoveled the last bit of my fourth load of paving sand out of the bed of the Beast I could tell the backs of my arms had become stronger.  I could see my forearms had developed slightly more muscles.  I felt stronger, far more energetic than I had felt for a long time…and definitely stronger than before I unloaded the first load of dirt.  I unloaded a total of ten truck beds of topsoil, road mix and paving sand…and now more than ever before, I now know I was unloading more than just dirt.  

I found my thoughts were clearer than they had been for a very long time.  And the fog…this fog…which had engulfed me in the last year and a half…this fog which has been playing havoc on my life over the past 18 months…I have now come to believe this fog has actually been surrounding me far longer than that.  Things happened recently that really made me see my surroundings as they truly are…as they have been, perhaps even before Jeff pass away.  I believe Jeff’s death was likely to have been the straw that broke the camel’s back, but I believe I have been living in this haze perhaps as far back as when Steve died.  Perhaps due to all the surroundings/circumstances of his death…and the family upheaval that happened the day he was buried.  All I know for sure, is my thoughts are now far clearer than they have been in years.  When Tina and a friend helped me clean the downstairs in my home recently, all the years of dust and dirt made me see things as they are…or possibly because of all this physical labor I have been doing out in the yard…I now see things as they are, for what they are in my present life.  I have avoided going downstairs for a very long time...I now know it was because of all the pictures.  All our family pictures which told a story of another time...another life.  What happened to all the people in those pictures?  I now know what Steve already knew before he died. 

My focus is now clear and I feel anew...I am once again cognizant of my surroundings and of my present state of mind.  Truer words have never been written by me.  This is how I feel these days.  Very awake.  Aware of all the things that happened after Steve died, and before Jeff died.  And I am very conscious of all things that happened shortly after Jeff died.  Although you can still find me with my phone in hand, hoping Jeff will be on the other end when it rings…I know it will never happen.  I have always been able to differentiate reality from my hopes, from my desires…but that didn’t stop me, and still doesn’t, from hoping I will one day wake from this horrific nightmare…or perhaps I should say, from this dreadful reality that just does not quit.

As I sit in my new garden I remember times, happier times when we were all laughing.  When did I stop laughing?  Sometimes I wonder if I can ever get that back, you know...the laughter.  Oh, I know at some point I will get it back.  Not as it was, you know…where we were all happy, all together…but I will be happy again, just in a different way, conceivably in a way life was meant for me to be.  This is something we never or at least rarely think about.  Life…what is its true meaning for us.  Or rather I should say, what is our true significance in this life?  I believe before this is all over…and before I live past this chapter of my life, I will know why I am here.  Before this ludicrous stage of my life is over, I will know my true function here…above ground…here, on earth.   

Once the ground of my garden was solid I was ready to lay rock.  I carefully chose the colors to lay so they will always intertwined with one another once laid.   I wrestled with each slab of granite until it was standing on end, and then I deliberately dropped the slab onto a large rock, watching as each slab of granite broke into several manageable pieces…pieces I could lift.  I gently place each piece of newly broken slab into this garden of love for my men.  At the end of each day, I filled each newly constructive section of granite slabs with sand, making sure the sand filled all the voids left between every edge of the granite.  With each grain of sand that filled the spaces…a piece of my heart was left in the ground for my guys.  The more sand I shoveled out of the bed of the Beast, the healthier I was becoming…both physically, and emotionally.  The harder I worked…the better I felt mentally.

With each rock laid into place, an old memory would show itself.  Almost as though I was unearthing, or perhaps reaching back…far back into my mind to reveal all the wonderful memories I spent with my family years before.  Every time I laid a rock in place in this garden I laid it carefully…not wanting to cover up any of the memories which were just unveiled.   I shed many tears with these memories…and I laughed aloud at some of these memories.  And at the end of each day’s work, I would sit and reflect on these fresh memories…not wanting to forget a single one of them.  As I sat there on either Steve’s or Jeff’s bench, I could see each of their smiles…each smile just as beautiful, as the other.  I could hear their laughter…I could see Jeff’s beautiful white teeth beaming through his smile, and the gold shimmer coming through Steve’s smile as I visualized them laughing.   I could see Jeff sitting on Steve’s lap at 2, at 7, at 16, and at 29 years of age.  It was his’ spot or so he always said.  Every time he sat on his father’s lap, Steve would massage his back.  It was only fitting…the day before Steve died he was lying in bed while Jeff and Ben gently massaged his legs, and with Tina tending to his needs.  I remember thinking it was the most endearing show of affection I had ever witnessed.  The two boys Steve could always count on, and Tina…those closest to him…were the only children by his side on his last days.  Ben is the only one of Steve’s oldest children who is still a part of my life now.  Steve told me he felt things would be this way…he predicted it would be as it is today.  He knew his children would not stay once he was gone.  He told me it would be me, Ben, Tina, Jeff…and no one else.  Steve knew...only now, Jeff too…is gone.

How I miss my family!  All the good times we shared, as well as some not so good times.  We were together, good or bad…we laughed through the best of times, and we rallied through the toughest of times.  “I miss those days…I miss my son.  I feel the need to hold him, to touch him…here in the flesh, here in real time.  I wonder if anyone, anyone at all can understand this.  These emotions that come and go…can anyone understand them?  Is there anyone out there who can relate to this at all?  Anyone?”  I feel a need to validate my emotions by others who have lost their only child.  Perhaps that is the reason I write…to reach out…to help others in my predicament…and to help myself emotionally…spiritually…mentally, and perhaps even physically…

The name I selected, ‘Serenity Garden’…lends itself to a place of peace, restfulness, and love.  I hope to have many new memories in this new beautifully built garden in my yard…happy memories.  After Steve passed away…this corner…his corner, has given me strength.  My hopes are that this newly built corner filled with love, will continue to give me strength when I am feeling down…when I feel the need to gain emotional strength in the future.  This corner of the yard was Steve’s favorite place to sit…he loved sitting here so he could watch the kids as they played volleyball, football, catch, croquet, or whatever, in this back area of the yard.  This was the area where the kids played games.  He sat on his bench and watched them as they played.  I remember one day when Steve became too ill and could no longer walk the length of the yard to get to his bench, the grandchildren had him sit in a wagon…”Sit here Grampa.  Sit here, we’ll pull you”…they then pulled the wagon, with Steve, beaming ear to ear…they pulled him to his bench at the far end of the half acre yard, so he could watch them play.  How fun is that memory?

I rediscovered Olgie while building this garden…I shed many tears and unearthed memories I had long forgotten.  I am able to see more clearly now.  I do not know what the future holds for me…but I now know I will be here for whatever the hell it is I am supposed to do in this life.  Who knows, perhaps this is what I am supposed to do…write…write my emotions down pen to paper, so others will know they are not alone in their own thoughts.    Earlier I wrote, I needed my thoughts, my emotions, validated….maybe it is I who is validating these same thoughts for others.

After Steve was gone life for me was difficult, both emotionally and financially.  I leaned on Jeff…a lot.  It wasn’t until Jeff came to visit that I understood how very much he missed his father.  When he visited me…I often found Jeff sitting in this corner…on Steve’s bench.  I knew he was sitting in this corner missing his father…just as I have been doing while building this garden, he too was remembering the past.  When Jeff discovered he had Parkinson’s disease he immediately came home…to catch his breath…and to sit on his father’s bench.  Over the years after Steve passed, I too, have found myself sitting in this corner.  After Jeff passed away this was where I came to sit.  This is the reason I selected this corner for my garden…it is a secluded corner, surrounded by trees and shrubs, invisible to the neighbors, with sounds of running water from the stream of our pond.  This was a place of peace for both my guys…this is a tranquil place for me.  It was my hopes to have this garden completed during the summer, that did not happen...but it is done, and just in time…to get the yard ready for winter.  Meanwhile, I will sweep off the fallen leaves…and I will continue to explore my memories.    

Am I My Own Judas?

Am I My Own Judas?

This morning a co-worker was asking questions about Jeff, about his health.  How would any of you feel if you were in my shoes…he has been gone nearly 18 months now, and this is the first time anyone here at work has asked about Jeff.  The first time!  I just want to scream!!!  Perhaps it is because I have been talking about the Memorial Garden, have shown them pictures of its progression.  It makes me ill to think my son died and no one here at work noticed!  Actually I am not even sure my family and friends noticed either.  How can that be?  I at times still feel so alone.  There is no doubt people, my close friends, my family, have made a conscious choice to stay away.  I disconnected my house phone, because it never rang…and my cell phone still never reaches it 500 maximum minutes each month?  Isn’t that something?  So much for family and close friends being here to support not only me…but anyone else in my position.  My heart goes out to all of you who know my pain.  All of you who have lost your only child, and then have suffered through losing your family and friends after the loss of your child.  I know your pain…I echo your pain.   This secondary loss is another form of bereavement.

My goodness, what has this f’n world come to?  Prior to losing Steve, he told me his children would most likely not be here for me after he passed away.  His words were, “Honey all the kids have told me they would be here to help you once I am gone.”  Then he paused and said, “But I suspect they are not being honest with me.  Don’t trust them Baby…they will not be good to you.”  Steve was so right!  I almost feel as though someone should have warned me that everyone else would do the same after Jeff died.  If only we could all predict the future…do you think this would have an effect on how we live our present life?  Of course it would.  Would I have wasted all those days being nice to Steve’s kids…trying to make them feel welcomed in our home?  Cooking for them, cleaning up after they all left…No, I doubt that I would have gone through all the trouble caring for them as I did.     The same is true now…with Jeff gone.   I have written on this subject some time back…but one would think anyone who pulled away would at some point…be back to say, “Hi, how is it going?”  I have come to the conclusion life does not work that way. Once someone is gone…things between you and that person (those people), will never again be as they were.  It just won’t…that is a fact!  I have also concluded this is the natural progression of life itself.  Perhaps this is what we are all meant to do...pull away from each other and go forth to meet new people.

People come and go in your life…I just really think this is the way things are meant to be.  Steve was here for a time…now he is gone.  Jeff was here for a time…he too, is also gone.  And all the people in between…they are all gone.  For those of us who are left behind, we suffer.  Perhaps we were meant to suffer.  Some of us more than others, but we suffer none the less.   Do you suppose God himself knows we suffer?  Do you think he cares?  I don’t know either way…according to scriptures he is ‘know-all, tell-all.’  I guess I don’t really give a hoot, one way or another…I just don’t care anymore.

Earlier in my writings I talked about being one’s own Judas.  Judas, back in the time of Christ, was the very person who betrayed Christ...who turned his back on him for his own gain.  So I think I finally know the true meaning of this question…am I my own Judas?

Recently my daughter and a friend helped me clean the entire downstairs of my home.  As we cleaned years and years of dust…I looked around and wondered, “When did this happen?”  This?  When did I, and why did I allow this to happen.  All the dirt that surrounded me downstairs, when did I let that happen?  After Steve died I allowed people to move in downstairs.  I gave them all the space I felt they needed to make them feel comfortable.  In doing this I also allowed them to take away from me that which was my very way of life.  I allowed them to mess up my home.  I allowed it.  I had no choice...I needed the money to make ends meet...to save my home.  And then afterwards, after they have all moved on with their own lives...I cannot believe my eyes…can not believe how badly I had let things go.  I don’t even know which room was worse, the bathroom, the family room, the dormitory, the laundry room, the hallway, or the bedroom.  How many people have I allowed to live downstairs?

When I asked Tina, “When did this happen?”

“You did what you had to do.  To keep the house after Dad died.  You did what you had to do.” She replied.

So I ask again, “Am I my own Judas? Am I the reason I allowed my house to become so dirty?  Am I the reason people stopped calling after Jeff died?  Did my sorrow drive everyone away? Or did I somehow omit some sort of unseen vibe…letting people know I did not want them around.  Were people just afraid I would off myself, and thereby not want to be around me…you know…just in case I actually did kill myself.  The fact that I have been sitting in my corner for the past year and a half, I can understand that alone, would warn people off.”

I have been thinking about everything that has happened lately.  The death of my son, my husband, my best friend, siblings.  I yearn to hold my son, to talk to him.  I long to talk to him…and at the same time I can’t help but wonder what happened to everyone else.  I think about my present state of mind…my present state of existence, which is not much of anything right now.  All the things that happened the day Jeff died and things that happened shortly thereafter.  I am so completely overwhelmed with these thoughts within me that I, at times, find myself grieving just as much today as I was right after Jeff died.   I ask again…"Am I my own Judas?  Have I somehow brought all this ill will upon myself?   Have I, in my own tenacious approach, laid this whole reality into motion for myself without even knowing it?  Is it possible for a person to do this?  Is it possible to do this to oneself without knowing it?  Am I my own Judas?"

I believe I have become my own Judas without even knowing it.  I have betrayed myself...my entire life as it was has changed.  I have changed.  I allowed the dirt to accumulate both downstairs and upstairs.  I have somehow pushed others away...at lease I now believe they felt as though I did not want them around.  Truth is...I really did not want them around...I probably still don't.  For now anyway I am fine mulling around in my own thoughts.  It is doing me good to think, to discover on my own how to survive this horrendous nightmare.  I know in my heart, those that I lost and still love are here...here with me...helping me through this dark passage.