Amparo Atencio
Before Tony’s death, I did not have a green thumb nor any interest in gardening, whatsoever. In my healing journey, it has become my passion. Thinking retrospectively, I see its origins and progression.
No longer able to take care of him, I nurture the living beings in my garden.
No longer able to see him mature and grow, I watch the seedlings shoot upward to their full potential.
No longer able to feed him, I give sustenance to the birds and the bees and other pollinators who come.
I pull weeds from a choked and anguished flowerbed, transforming it into a place of peace and serenity. The weeds symbolize my heartbreak in the aftermath of the early days of grief. As the days become months and then years, I slowly find my way to the peace that soothes my soul.
My penchant for planting perennials rather than annuals allows me to see a rebirth, as the circle of life continues in my garden, year after year.
Sometimes, when I have been working especially hard in my garden, I feel it in my lower back. I wipe the sweat off my brow from the physical labor that reminds me of the childbirth labor I felt in my lower back giving birth to Tony.
It makes sense to me now that my plants and my labor have everything to do with maintaining my connections with my beautiful, beautiful boy.
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