Growing A Garden of Hope

I don’t think whoever said, “Time heals all wounds,” ever lost someone they loved more than life itself.

It’s been month after endless month, and I’m still waiting. Continually stuffing down all these painful feelings just to function in the “normal” world surrounding me.

Long after the funeral is over and the world has moved on, the searing pain and anguish of my grief has softened some. But the shards of broken hopes, dreams, and life as I knew it have cut my heart and spirit so deep and profoundly that I can’t find any hope for a future without this horrible pain.

Lying in wait under the surface of my day-to-day life is the ache of misery deep within the dark depths of my soul. Anything can trigger the tears welling up behind my eyes, suspending me in torment while the world is business as usual, not caring that I’m forced to live the rest of my life without you.

“You need to tend to your garden,” someone says to me. “With intention, dedication, and support, you can transform your deeply wounded heart and spirit into fertile ground. From that fertile ground, you can transform pain into love; Longing into memories, and despair into hope.

“You see, deep within where you buried your painful feelings, the warmth and depth of your love for them can become the brilliant sun that shines light down on your fertile ground. The tears you shed turn into the rain that helps your garden grow. Your garden of grief can grow resilience, compassion, and hope. Others can support you with how to grow and tend your garden.

“Use the harvest as continual reminders that your life should be lived. Not in a ‘just barely make it through each day’ kind of life, but a purposeful life that recognizes the gift that each new day brings… because we know all too well that the next is never guaranteed.”

So with self-care and guidance from other seasoned gardeners, I’m learning to nurture my buried feelings of pain and sorrow. With determination, practice, and patience, my garden is growing. Yielding crops of loving memories, purpose, and newfound hope.

Apparently time does heal all wounds…but not without a little help.

By Maria Kubitz, in loving memory of Margareta Sol Kubitz