Hello everyone -
I have had trouble lately writing about my mother’s struggle with Alzheimer’s and our journey together in dealing with that gut-wrenching disease. It is hard to believe it has been nearly 5 months since her passing. I still think of her every day and in so many ways. I talk with her all the time. I play her music. I ask her to help me with problems. Is this normal? I don’t know. I do know that the garden is often a place of healing for me. Something about feeling the cold earth, something so very basic and so connecting. Pulling weeds with an absurd sense of order and control, I nurture my favored plants with loving attention, envisioning something of beauty in the coming months. My mother used to love to garden, too, and she left many behind – her small way of making the world a more beautiful place. She also loved birds, whether they were shorebirds, the backyard variety, or majestic raptors – but most particularly, she loved the little hummers. She had hummingbird calendars, blown glass hummingbirds hanging by the window, hummingbird magnets on her fridge, painted pictures of hummers on the walls, and of course, hummingbird feeders.
And so last week when Mother Nature must have been laughing as we dug ourselves out from an unexpected snow here in the Pacific Northwest – something we hardly see throughout the winter – I found myself talking to my mother, and we were worried about the little birds in this unexpected cold snap. I have several bird feeders around the yard, and I made sure everyone had plenty of seed. The quail were especially industrious at scratching around and were there morning and night, on schedule. As soon as the winds died down and the clouds parted, I hung up a hummingbird feeder. I wondered if I was too early, but within minutes, they were coming around. One even came right up and buzzed me as I refilled it. I looked at it closely. I could almost feel my mother’s presence in the vibration of its wings, saying, “Thank you for helping me.”
I posted more pictures of the snow, the garden, and sure signs of spring: the hummingbird, a frog, and cherry blossoms, on my Barbolian Fields blog. Hope you enjoy.
Oh, Blythe, that is so wonderful!!! The picture is amazing but your words are even more dear. Our folks find a way to stay with us somehow, even after they are leaving us or already gone.
I think feeling them, talking to them, has got to be quite normal. I’m still calling out to my father 5 years later. He’s not as close by all the time as he was earlier in that time — maybe he is relaxing a bit as he realizes Chick and I can take care of Snowy (so far) or maybe he has her with him more often when she is dreaming.
It is hard to have lost him and feel her leaving. She has more times now when she isn’t for sure who we are, especially to her, but deep down she doesn’t doubt the connection.
Her think was always cardinals, although the hummingbirds were next best. And she gardened, too, although not for a long while now. I’m heading over to Barbolian Fields to see the other photos Thank you for sharing.
big hug,
Shu
By: shussmallworld on May 3, 2008
at 5:52 pm
Thank you for such a heartfelt response. I know just what you mean when someone you love is caught between here and somewhere else only they can feel, as if maybe they are also feeling they are partly here and maybe partly in the place they need to go to next, and as if they, too, can feel the presence of loved ones who have gone on before, but they feel them quite close, because the distinction between this reality and the one they live in is not always distinguishable…..a warm hug to you, too, Shu.
By: blythelight on May 4, 2008
at 7:44 pm