Yarrow, Lavender, and Sage

The last day that I watered my garden was the first week of August. The days were hot and dry, and most of the flowers in my gardens were gone, but the yarrow, lavender and sage were shining in the early morning sun. “I should write a blog about the garden,” I thought to myself. Sitting on the swinging chair on my catio, drinking my morning latte, I took a picture of Hannah and a lavender plant to send to my son David.

The picture failed to deliver. The phone told me that he was offline.

I wouldn’t know it for a couple of more days, but my wonderful son, one of the best parts of my life, had died of complications of his type 1 diabetes. His loss has left a gaping hole in all of our lives.

That evening of the day that I found him, I took a bad fall while taking out some bags of trash from his apartment. Yep. I ended up in the emergency room.

Luckily I didn’t break anything, but I certainly was bashed up and I’m still recovering from the injuries. While in the emergency room I also picked up another gift:

There it is, my very first positive test for covid. I can hardly believe it happened. I was pretty sick the first week, and then the virus lingered on for two more weeks before I finally tested negative in the beginning of the fourth week.

Through all of this I have been pretty dysfunctional. I haven’t been able to read, or knit, or work outside in the garden. The grass has died, and the flowers are now all gone. I found myself unable to blog because I didn’t have any idea how I could tell this sad story, but I also realized that I can’t return to blogging without acknowledging what has happened. Today I am doing that.

This week I began to return to life. I picked up the knitting again. I sewed some zipped pouches to donate to my community action group: they will be filled with hygiene products and given to people in need through a program at a local hospital. I started collecting pictures for my son’s online memorial, and eventually I will return to writing my blog again. I’ve been contacted by some people who were worried about me, and I am sorry about that. Hopefully, soon, I will be posting again.

Here she is, the emotional support chicken that I knit for my son out of homespun yarns and red purchased alpaca yarn. I found her in tatters on his living room floor, all of the red yarn eaten by insects. Kind of fitting: broken heart, broken chicken.

I considered calling this post Loss, Grief, and Sorrow.

Forever more, that is how I will remember yarrow, lavender, and sage.

My garden in the first week of August.
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Author: Midnight Knitter

I weave, knit and read in Aurora, Colorado where my garden lives. I have 2 sons, a knitting daughter-in-law, a grandson and two exceptionally spoiled kittens. In 2014 I was diagnosed with a serious rare autoimmune disease called systemic sclerosis along with Sjogren's Disease and fibromyalgia.

27 thoughts on “Yarrow, Lavender, and Sage”

  5. My very dear Marilyn, I wished and wished I had the means to contact you. But then, I thought, what could I possibly say that would ameliorate even to a tiny degree the huge load – the ADDITIONAL load – you’ve been carrying ? Colorado (i.e., Susan) let me know what dreadful thing had occurred, and we commiserated with each other in a pathetic replacement of commiserating with you.

    Your life seems determined to test your strength and will. It’s not god who’s doing it because there isn’t one; but when a good and valued person keeps being knocked down again and again … well, I guess you’re never going to win the lottery. No: you’re the least lucky person I know of.

    But there you are, suffering unspeakable grief and sadness on top of the physiological problems, and not once wailing “WHY ME ?!” Which is just as well, as there’s no answer, darlin.

    I hesitate to say this because it simply egotistical … but if you felt like emailing, you can find me at

    margie-roseatoutlookdotcom

    and if you didn’t I wouldn’t be one whisker surprised. Or offended. But I can say with truth that I am so relieved to have you back that I can’t describe it.

    That pair of felines will be providing some emotional support. Tell them I said BE GOOD YOU TWO AND GIVE YOUR MOTHER UNENDING LOVE.

    Reply

    1. I am translating and keeping your email address! I have actually drowning in cats right now as I have my son’s three cats with me in addition to Hannah and Mateo. Hannah is not a fan of the new cats, so I have the two populations separated. Tomorrow, if all goes well, my son’s cats will go to their new forever home… I need to get all three of the guys into carriers. Worst case, I will have to make two different trips.

      I luckily have lots of support through the members of the different groups that I belong to. I decided that I needed to move on and start blogging again because you guys are also part of my essential support system!

      Reply

      1. I’m delighted to hear about all your support !! – but not really surprised. You’ve always been a forward-thinking and a generous thinker; so I am going to assume that those in your groups are the same kind of people. 🙂

        I know I can speak for all of us here following your blog when I say how happy we are to be considered part of your support system, dear thing.

        Best of luck with all those moggies: I wouldn’t be any good with all that.

      1. Hoping this conitnues, Marilyn, and that nothing happens for ages and ages with regard to your various ongoing health probs.

        I know from my own experience when my beloved husband died, 20 years ago come January, that one’s topical injuries are much worse than when one wasn’t deep in grief. You must take extra care of yourself and not just shrug about any potential damage when considering some activity, OK ?!

  9. I’m sorry for your devastating loss. To lose a child at any age is unthinkable. That you found him along with the tattered chicken seems particularly cruel, and then a fall and Covid. Words are never adequate. I’m sending you light and love. Alys

    Reply

    1. Finding the chicken was a one of the really low points in the whole horrible week. He had come down for lunch the day that he picked it up, and it was a really nice day. I think that is how things will be going for the next year or so as I remember all the things that we did together on specific dates as I come to them. I remember that this is something that we all go through, and I’m trying to be as positive as I can.

      Reply

  10. Indomitable. That’s what I thought about you while I was reading this (but I confess I had to look up the spelling). Take care of yourself and give the kitties a pat for me.

    Reply

    1. That is the word that I used to describe my sister, and I had to look up the spelling, too. My mother was the original, and I try to live up to her example.

      The kitties have been really supportive!

      Reply

  13. I am so, so sorry, Marilyn. Memory Eternal ❤️

    I hope that you are healing from your fall. Sending you love and hugs.

    (Please forgive me that I am just seeing your post because life has had me in a chokehold for the last year.)

    Reply

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