What a blur this time was....My husband had just started his vacation when this all took place and with using some available sick time he ended up having 3 weeks off. We had already made plans to do some major landscaping projects and had plants laying everywhere outside needing a home. The rain started the night of the funeral and didn't stop for weeks--and it was cold. Dad left us to return to his home in Augusta and we finally had some time alone to take a breathe...and then what-oh my had to do something..and so we we dressed warm and went out and started digging. We repeated this in the rain for over 2 weeks-we had mud everywhere. We built a huge flower bed under a gorgeous red maple tree--we tried adding fresh dirt (dry)in with all the mud when we planted the flowers, but of course it didn't really matter. We finished the bed and then continued on until we had done 7 beds all with rock edging. Each rock was placed with the pain of grief. We just had to do something so we worked, and worked-and cried, and cried. I don't remember much else those few weeks. I had just started my vacation at work also and I took another 2 weeks off. I remember a girl from work coming over, Emily, and I do not remember anyone else. I didn't think I would ever quit crying-the pain was unbearable-I suppose the garden was our therapy. We used to love to be out in our yard and had spent the same time every year with a landscaping project, and now we haven't spent any time in that yard since we built the beds over 2 years ago.
Not a poet--I am sure you understand..................
I walk to the garden, where through the labor of love,
There now sits a lovely, beautiful young girl,
Holding a kitten and carrying a smile,
She sits peacefully - Such an innocent child.
The garden was placed with two pair of hands,
Through rain and tears and mental pain,
We needed the labor to guide us through
Those first days of losing you.
The statue was placed under the beautiful tree,
Red leaves of the maple hanging above,
Ferns and hosta touching your feet,
Most would find peace here – a place to think.
But we know the truth amidst all the beauty,
The pain and anguish, the tears and grief
Tilled into the soil so as not to think,
Of the beautiful child that would never be seen.
That once beautiful garden now needs tending,
You were gone so quickly, so much unsaid,
I love you dear Amber - it breaks my heart,
The garden now means nothing-just a shrine to the dark.
Someday another will look upon the garden
With hope, fascination, and plans for the future.
They will not know the pain that was felt
When two years ago the garden was built.