Today’s Tiny Tuesday post is dedicated to our late nephew Aaron. This is the anniversary of his death, so I chose to clean up Aaron’s Garden while I thought about him. Tom and I got a couple of new things to put there, including this little horned toad (or horned lizard?) for a bit of whimsy.
I picked him up at the nursery, then I reconsidered and set him down. Before I turned away, I patted him on the head and back in a kind of apology.
Two women were shopping nearby, and one of them saw me, laughed, and said, “You just patted him so gently.” “I don’t want him to think I’m rejecting him,” I said. I meant it.
We walked away, continued shopping, and then when we went back that way, I chose him again. It wasn’t until we got him home that Tom told me he was missing a foot (not noticeable in this photo). It confirmed for me that I was right to get him; I never saw a flaw.
I don’t know why I anthropomorphize objects; from childhood, I felt energy in places and things. It’s why losing some, not all, things can sometimes be hard on me emotionally.
Losing a person however, is always hard, especially Aaron, who was so young and had so many things yet to experience and do, so many people to meet and affect and be affected by. He was, and is, deeply loved, and even now, in objects he never saw or touched that are in his garden, I feel an energy connected to the love he gave us all and we all continue to give him.
We also added a colorful dove wind chime. It has a lovely, delicate sound. I like the look and the music of it.
It’s beautiful Becky. I knew you would remember and put something in your blog and although I am so happy that 11 years later you remember and keep his garden, it is still so difficult for me that it took me this long to open your blog and read what you wrote through the tears that always flow when remembering him or reading a remembrance. I still miss him everyday. I still struggle with the memories and what if’s. I still want one day in his life, my life and Alex’s life to have never existed. I still want the joy he brought into my life everyday. All these years later I now realize that all these desires will never leave me. I found a quote and I don’t know who wrote it but it says what I feel.
“Had I known my heart would break I would have loved you anyway.
The happiness I’ve had with you is far greater than the pain you embedded on me.”
Sending my love,
Lisa
That’s a beautiful quote. Thank you for sharing it. Every single thing you do–how you remember, what your heart can bear on any given day, those times you can barely function, and the other times when you can remember and laugh or feel joy in the remembering–that’s your own private timetable and doesn’t have to match anyone else’s expectations. All the while, and this I believe with all my heart, love is constantly healing, healing, healing from deep inside you, including his love for you, your love for him. Healing doesn’t mean not remembering, not grieving, especially with a loss so deep. But it can help you keep going and enable you to love others, especially your children. 💜