As part of Facebook, a number of us have replaced our profile picture with that of a flower which starts with the first letter of our first name. Mine is a purple clematis. Probably this reflection is a partial explanation.
My experience is that grieving takes time, particularly when it is someone close (like a parent) . Now, four years after Mom*s death, I feel like it*s a gift to me to be able to celebrate the places I knew and saw her to be truly alive. I know God is holding her, and I know she, probably like any number of us will be, was hugely surprised after she died.
This summer
I will watch the yard come to life
With Mom.
On my knees I clip apart
The old clematis vines,
Trim them back so growth
Comes new.
I remember Mom*s green thumb.
Heck, all her fingers were green.
There was always green
When summer came.
The backyard bloomed pink and purple,
Orange and gold and white and blue.
I never knew what everything was called.
She did.
The backyard was one place
Life was assured.
The garden beds rioted in color.
The mock orange smelled
Outrageously good.
She grew mint and chives
Next to the back door
For garnish.
The mother-daughter thing
We did not do well,
But flowers
Yes
Flowers she knew
Flowers she could offer freely.
When Jeff and I married in Boston.
She ordered flowers of every color
For the columns in the church,
For every table in that room
Overlooking the Charles River.
Now I remember the clematis:
Huge purple flowers
Trellised on the side of the garage.
The pillar in the front of my house
Blooms that same purple every year.
I remember
Her green fingers,
The surety of life
in the backyard.
I plan new places for clematis here,
On the other pillars,
In the backyard.
I plan and plant.
I remember.
After four years, it is good to remember.
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