I had a ton of errands to run yesterday: gas station, pet supply store, quilt shop (which wasn't necessary, but I had to pass right by it--you think I wasn't going to stop?), and finally to Home Depot to return the pesticide that exploded (see "When Beetles Attack" below). Well, I didn't close my eyes in time. I spotted some small nandinas that I deemed just right to plant in the back yard to discourage Skipper's infernal digging. So I got six of them. That's all they had.
Then I thought I probably needed some garden soil to fill in the big huge holes that Skipper has dug, and also to give the nandinas a healthy start. So I loaded two bags of garden soil into my buggy. On the way to the register, I grabbed a flat of yellow mums that I thought would look great in the pretty blue flower pot that I got at the thrift store sometime ago.
At home, I unloaded all that stuff and put it in the back yard. Up the hill with pots and dirt bags, down the hill for more, up the hill with more pots and dirt bags, down the hill, etc., etc.
You'd think I would learn, but there's no learning here. Just bullheadedness. I'm not going to stop till I have to. Well, now I have to stop.
My plan was to arise early this morning, and get the nandinas and mums planted. The rise early part is where I started falling behind. I woke early; in fact, I didn't sleep much last night for the pain. But rise, I could not, at least not early.
So now, my back yard is full of pots of plants and bags or dirt, and I can hardly move anything except my fingers and eyelids--and them not well.
But, yeah, I've veered completely off the subject that I started out to write about. Go back a couple of miles before I got home. As I was coming home down Zeigler Road late yesterday afternoon, hot and sweaty (even though the air conditioning was on warp 10), there came on the radio (XM Bridges) a song by Van Morrison, "She's As Sweet as Tupelo Honey." All of a sudden, that grief was back, the same grief that settled on me on the morning of Sept. 2, 2009, when Vann left us. I haven't felt that choking, sick feeling in a long time now. But it was back as strong as it ever was.
Now Vann Cleveland was not a particular fan of Van Morrison. I don't know if he'd even recognize that song. But for some reason, that lilting, melancholy, sweet tune hit me like a a boulder. And the thing that kept going through my mind, along with Van's lyrics, was "He loved me. He loved me."
Will this happen for the rest of my life. Will there be times out of the blue when the grief sits down on me and squishes the breath out of me? I hope not. I hope I never feel its suffocation again on this earth or anywhere else. But I'm not convinced that I won't.
And this, by the way, is what I got at the quilt shop.
Why, you ask, did I buy this? Because it was there, I answer.
NOTE: I just realized that yesterday was exactly two years and nine months from the day Vann passed away. I don't know if that has anything to do with anything, but it's noteworthy.
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On 06/03/2012, Kris of dandelion quilts said ...
Lol. Good answer Susan!
On 06/03/2012, Barbara Anne said ...
Bless your sweet heart, honey! I am sure our subconscious minds really do keep track of all sorts of personally significant anniversaries that don't make it to our calendars. I had a week of sadness at the time of the anniversary of my father's death for 10 or so even tho by the 2nd year I had it figured out.
May I suggest you enlist the assistance of Jesse or some neighbor to help you do all of that planting since many hands make light work? It is a fact that new plants require tending whether planted or not. Cheers that everything you need to plant is up the hill now! Shrea, shrea, my friend. Perhaps this time it's one hole, one plant at at time?
Love your fabrics!
Hugs!
On 06/03/2012, Charlene said ...
My husband died in 2000. Yesterday I was at our grandson's baseball game; our grandson caught a fly ball. And that overwhelming, sick-in-the-pit of my stomach grief came over me that he couldn't see the miracle we had helped create and how much he would have enjoyed seeing that catch. After a trip to the bathroom, I remembered the look on his face when our son caught a football in a close game. And I thought, "maybe that's because somehow he is with me and sharing these good moments" So maybe that grief never goes away but I plan to enjoy those moments thinking he is here with me - if only in my memories and in my heart!
On 06/03/2012, Brenda Kula-Pruitt said ...
I do think there's something to the dates. I have reacted and had problems with a certain date every year since childhood. Sometimes I don't recall why I'm so anxious until a week later, when I will realize the date is past. I think that is the survivor in me holding it off until it's passed. I do the same damned thing with the doing too much. My hands are in an awful mess due to my digging. Send your dog to help me dig these flower beds, would ya?
Brenda
On 06/03/2012, Debra H. said ...
It still happens to me too, Susan. I lost my wonderful Wayne the same year you lost Van. A few days ago, I found out that my daughter's second child will be another grandson, and his middle name will be Wayne. Such a wonderful, touching thing, and I cried and cried. I missed him so much. You never know what's going to hit you and how. We've just got to keep on going because really, what's the alternative?
On 06/04/2012, Debra S said ...
I was sitting at a deli having lunch the other day and looked across the dining area. There was a pretty little girl with long red hair. All of a sudden tears were streaming down my face. She was, in my mind, the epitome of the granddaughter I will never have because of Will's death. So, in some ways, I am grieving the loss of that which will never be--it was so unexpected. I hurried through my lunch & left. Grief is an ugly monster at times. I so understand.
On 06/04/2012, Sharon M. said ...
I never know what's going to come out of nowhere - a song, a book, a movie, going down a street we frequently went down, a restaurant we ate at, a random memory - and just stab at me.
It just tells me, I guess, that he had such an impact on my life that those will continue - at 3 1/2 years now - and for the rest of my life.
We are lucky to know that we loved and were loved, and that will never end.
On 06/04/2012, Deb said ...
Hi Susan, I'm just reading yesterday's post. So so sorry that the grief just keeps coming back when you least expect it. I haven't experienced that yet...and hope that I won't have to anytime soon! I'm reading the comments already and see that everyone has some of the same experiences when it comes to a loved one. Thank you for sharing. Keep on keeping on!
On 06/10/2012, Sharon Penney-Morrison said ...
Ok, here is the deal.
It has been 10 years since my love
died and grief comes upon me without
warning. Just all of a sudden, there
he is...pulling on my heartstrings. I
like to think Dick is still thinking of
me at these times.
Time passes but it seems mourning doesn't
end.
I love your blog..
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