Today was a day of a roller coaster of emotions, not unlike a lot of days recently. The first emotion that came to mind this morning was stress. It was community meal day, and the idea of being the person in charge of getting 80 people fed their evening meal in less than 12hrs just gets me stressed out – no matter how much time I’ve spent planning, emailing, calling, confirming, etc etc. (I co-ordinate a meal held at a local church once a month for people in our community who either need help making ends meet or need a social outlet or both. We usually feed about 50-65 people; but occasionally we’ve had up to 80 show up, so I try to be prepared for that number.)
And so as I found myself mixing up 9lbs of hamburger, 9 diced onions and other various ingredients to make sloppy joes, the second strong emotion of the morning hit. I realized 3 months ago – April 28th – was the day my sister-in-law took her life. That day should have gone a lot like today would go – double checking lists, packing the car, food preparation at home, more food preparation at the church, serving the meal at 5:30p, coming home and crashing. Three months ago, April 28th was a Thursday, and I was in charge of the community meal to be held that evening. Instead at 6:19a we got the phone call from my mother-in-law, and the rest of the day is – well – it’s indescribable. But the realization of the significance of today sent me back, reliving those moments of pure shock and unimaginable grief for part of this morning.
But just so you know that my days are not all grief-stricken, you need to hear about the moment late this morning when I realized that my clematis was blooming – oh happy day! Now you need to know the background story about this particular plant in order to understand my joy. My husband will tell you the fastest way to kill a plant is to give it to me in a pot. Seriously, it’s a fine mixture of over watering and negligence on my part, but I’m generally 100% lethal with a potted plant. When my florist-neighbor asked me to water her plants while they were away on vacation recently, Daniel told me I better have a couple sessions from the master on the fine art of watering plants before she left. Luckily I only had to water 2 days and the majority of the plants were in the ground, which I’m somewhat competent at watering. See picture of zinnia as proof.
So when my small group gave us a clematis in bloom as a care-gift after Alicia’s death, I was excited but nervous at the prospect of taking care of this plant until it was in the ground. I had been admiring other clematises this spring; and upon bringing the gifted-plant home, I found out Daniel was pretty excited about it too. We set to work thinking of a place to plant it, but that was about as far as we got due to not having an obvious space for it since it needs a trellis and also due to the craziness of life at that point. I watered it as often as I remembered, but eventually it totally dried up along with 2 other potted plants on the porch. When I reported the death of the clematis to Daniel, he was very disappointed – ok, he was mad. Maybe he just needed something to be mad at that day – there seems to be a lot of that in our house recently on both our parts; but he was upset and rightly so to a certain extent. I don’t know what made me do it, but I tried watering it again for a couple of days – even though there wasn’t a speck of green on the entire plant. Low and behold after time, one lone green shoot emerged from the soil and acted like it wanted to climb something. I guess that was enough motivation for us to finally come up with a planting spot.
So I planted it and have been watering it since while the green leaves keep coming. (The lone shoot which I thought was a new clematis vine turned out to actually be a weed, but at least it got us where we needed to go.) I’ve been looking at other clematises and am pretty sure most of them have been done blooming for about a month now. But when I went out to water mine today, this is what I found.
One single bloom in honor of Alicia. Maybe the whole plant will bloom again due to the drought I put it through earlier. Maybe it’s coincidence that we happen to see this sign of hope and beauty today of all days. Maybe it’s from Alicia telling us not to forget her. Whatever it is, it is my gift today. And it brings me some sense of peace to know that even out of death – out of the brown, dried-up-ness of life – can come something else, something besides just sorrow and agony. And perhaps – just by chance – with a little love, a little caring, and a “little” watering of tears will come something beautiful too.