Grief

It’s been about 9 years since my mom passed away, yet I feel as though my heart still is not the same. I still feel as though I am in a dissociative desaturated haze. I have been trying to color back my life, color by color. Every year, my uncles and aunts come to visit my mother’s grave with me, but this year they can’t make it. I really wanted to show them my garden, the one that my mom, uncles, and aunts inspired. In this garden, I am trying to grow all the vegetables I remember my mom cooking and the fruits my mom loved. I am also trying to grow flowers like my uncles and aunts and to create a spiritually nourishing place like they also have in their backyards. I guess a part of me is still like that little kid trying to show his parents his stick figure drawing. I am grateful that as a kid I had my mom to show my drawings, but what happens if you have no one to show your drawings to? I remind myself that I do it for myself, because it nourishes my soul and comforts me, and that’s enough.

B.

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