Return To Magic

A few weeks ago my boyfriend, Daniel, told me he had a surprise for me. As we drove to my house after work I wondered what the surprise could be. When I pulled into my driveway I noticed that the garden hose was neatly rolled up over the faucet and no longer in the driveway where I had carelessly left it. That is when I knew he had been there while I was at work. I thought at first that maybe he had taken care of getting some timers for my flowerbeds since my house doesn’t have an irrigation system which leaves me to hand water with hoses and sprinklers. I had been complaining to him about what a pain it was to turn on the sprinklers and have to run out from the bed to avoid getting wet. 

When we got out of our cars he asked me if I notice what he had done.  

“I noticed that my hose isn’t in the driveway anymore. Did you fix my sprinklers?” I asked, hopeful that I wouldn’t have to deal with that after all.  

“No, I didn’t do the sprinklers. Do you see it?” I focused on the other flowerbed’s faucet and noticed again that the hose had been neatly coiled up. 

“Do you see it?” he asked again, this time with more enthusiasm. It took me a minute, then I noticed the fresh new bark in one of the beds and said, 

“Oh! You replaced the bark!” How sweet is that?! I thought. “ Wow! Thank you!!” I beamed. Giving him an appreciative hug. 

“Yes, that’s not all.” he said.  Still in his embrace I looked to the side, when I saw it. One of my flower pots was not where it was supposed to be and there was a new flower in another pot. Panic set in as I scanned to figure out where things were. 

“Where is my pot?” I asked pulling away. I tried to contain my panic and irritation that was building as I continued to take in the scene. 

“Oh, I may have put things back the wrong way, I forgot what went where.” He said looking regretful.

Continuing to scan the front yard, I notice that he had cleaned up all of my flower pots, removing all of the winter debris, dead leaves and branches. The plants that hadn’t made it through the winter were gone, replaced with lovely new flowers. Such a sweet and loving gesture. I couldn’t remember when someone had been so generous and caring. I was filled with so many emotions all at once. I felt loved and cared for, but I also felt irritated and a little invaded that he had been in my space without asking. I also felt sad that I did’t get a chance to do those things myself. He had just taken away the one thing I had been looking forward to doing all winter.  It was also a little disorienting having things not where they were supposed to be. 

That’s not what I wanted him to do, I thought. He could sense my frustration and quickly said, 

“We can put things back and I can get stuff out of the trash if you want. I thought you would be happy to come home and find everything pretty and cheerful and be inspired. I know you have been too busy to get it.” 

How freaking thoughtful is that?! Omg what is wrong with me? He’s got to be the kindest man alive. Pull it together Bonnie. I reached out and gave him a hug realizing that he had done all of this for me and my response was anything but grateful. 

“Thank you so much! You are so sweet to do all of this. I was just looking forward to doing this myself. It’s my favorite thing to do. Honestly though, I’ve never had anyone do something like this for me. I’m sorry to have such a bad reaction to it.” 

“It’s okay.” he said continuing to hold me in a comforting embrace seemingly unphased by my reaction. 

I continue to notice everything he had done. He replaced the dead plants with purple daisies, placed a heart shaped rock in one of the pots, and hung beautiful wind chimes on the back deck along with a beautiful yellow freesia.  All of the little touches reminded me of  his house. The first time I went there he gave me a tour and I noticed little crystals tucked into little corners and crevices here and there along with meaningful pictures and artful displays everywhere I looked. I was struck by how magical it felt. It filled me with longing of a time when I too had magic in my house. What had happened to my own magic? I wondered. 

I remembered a time when morning walks though my garden with a cup of coffee in hand plucking out a weed here and trimming a bit there was just part of my daily routine. I grew herbs and collected and dried them. Every week in the summertime meant pesto made from the basil and garlic I grew, or fresh marinara from tomatoes picked from the garden that day. In the winter I  pulled out these summertime treasures I had preserved and enjoyed what I liked to call “summertime on a plate”. 

That first summer after Scott passed I couldn’t even go into my garden. My garden had always been my happy place. It was also the one place I could go, taking with me whatever I had going on in my life, to sort it all out and get my head together. It held my tears as well as my joys. It was also the place I could get appreciation from Scott, a place I could shine. Gardening was something I was good at. Without him there to appreciate and encourage me and just too many memories to face, I stayed away and left everything neglected. 

As time went on I slowly made my way back to my garden, but I realized that things needed to change. Everywhere I looked I was reminded of the loss. Scott was everywhere. The garden beds he built for me. The last one after his diagnosis where I had to help him drive the large stakes into the ground because he had become too weak to lift the sledge hammer himself. The rose bushes, iris and lilies he had planted. Wind chimes from that first year, the cat and the frog statues, all things we had collected over the years.  Over time I slowly removed some of these things in hopes of easing the grief. I planted new plants and effectively landscaped the whole backyard into a place that no longer resembled the yard that we had once shared. I created a space that reflected me. I even painted the shed with purple trim, which along with the flowers planted beside it made the backyard resemble a fairytale. It wasn’t enough. I was still having trouble moving on, and so were the kids. That’s when I decided it was time to physically move forward. I sold the house and we moved, leaving behind all that was. 

Since leaving my house and that life behind I have been missing something. Although I have had gardens each year, it has never been what it once was. Each year I start with enthusiasm and inspiration to create my garden space, only to be filled with an overwhelming feeling of emptiness from no longer having someone to share in that enthusiasm. I find myself simply going through the motions, never fully connecting to that magic I once knew. Each year I find little parts that I had left behind, but somehow the magic I had once felt has faded to a memory.

The past two years I have worked to return to this place of magic, searching in myself to find the reason I used to grow my garden and create beauty around me. I forced myself last year to plant a garden for myself instead of doing it in an attempt to impress anyone. I did it for my own pleasure and appreciation. No longer having the kids at home, I planted less vegetables, and focused instead on flowers. I filled pots with flowers on my deck and replaced a few things in the front. I never got around to the bark. It didn’t go as well as I expected. For some reason things did not grow as well as my gardens of the past.  I tried to find appreciation in the things that grew well and took notes on what needed to change next time. I also accepted that this was just another layer of grief, one that was hard to shake.

Winter seemed to go on forever this year, never giving me time to tidy up the garden of weeds or go through the pots and trim things. I started dating Daniel in February, a time when things couldn’t have looked worse in my yard. In previous relationships I would have made sure to make things perfect before even thinking of inviting him over  in an attempt to impress him and also to hide my imperfections. As fate would have it though, on the day of our second date there was a terrible accident which blocked the freeway in both directions. When our date should have been over, I realized he would have been stuck in traffic and unable to drive home. It was also pouring down rain and we had already been walking around town ducking in and out of stores to stay dry. To ease the situation I offered that he could come to my house and hang out until the traffic cleared even though I knew my house was a wreck and I hadn’t planned on having him over. I’ve been working hard this past year on becoming comfortable with myself just as I am. So, I invited him in trying to let go of the need for anything to be perfect. It felt uncomfortable to expose the behind the scenes of my otherwise put together life, and have him see my reality which felt like a mess. 

Coming home that day and seeing what Daniel had done by cleaning up the potted plants and putting down the much needed bark was kind and generous. It was just what I needed to jumpstart my motivation to do more, but instead of gratitude I felt resistance. In that moment I wasn’t enough. I felt that he wasn’t seeing the me I wanted him to see, the me that is magic like him. I wanted him to know that this wasn’t how I wanted things and felt like I had really let things go. Then I realized, he wasn’t judging me, he was loving me. Maybe he knew I needed a push back to a part of me that I had become detached from.

Over the next week my appreciation grew as I came home and did indeed enjoy seeing the beauty and magic he had created for me, especially because I still had not found a bit of time to do the work myself.  I would have still been looking at the same tired pots of half dead flowers and sparse bark in the flowerbeds.

The other feeling I felt that day was fear. It has been a very long time since I have had anyone take care of me and it brought back all of the feelings of having that care and stability pulled right from underneath me when I lost Scott. I haven’t been willing to allow anyone to take care of me since he passed. I’ve needed to be sure I was my own stability so that I would never feel that pain again. It’s both wonderful and very scary to let someone in. 

Feeling joy and sorrow without shying away from either might be the key to experiencing peace. I recall feeling guilty after Scott passed when I had happy moments in between the agony of grief. I felt bad that I was not in fact drowning in my sorrow at every moment. How could I feel happy or even laugh during such a time? I remember expressing this to a friend who assured me that it was okay and actually good to allow myself to laugh and feel joy towards the things in my life that were not full of grief. There were a lot of those moments. There were also times where I became swallowed up by the grief, unable to see a way out of the pain in my heart. I learned it was all okay. 

April 26th marked eleven years since Scott passed and yet I still remember, like it was yesterday, the feeling of having that security ripped out from under my feet. Lately I have been feeling guilty for still feeling grief after all of these years. It feels especially sharp now with this new feeling of love scooping me up in a protective embrace. There is no way for me to know what will happen next, so I remind myself that it’s okay to feel the safety of the new along side of fear of losing it. Daniel’s loving gesture that was meant to help inspire me reminds me of how Scott always found ways to lead me back to myself. It helps me see that joy and grief can live side by side as I am gently guided back to my own magic.