At the beginning and the end of all the grief of loss of someone we love, whether to death or to Alzheimer’s, is a need to figure out how to go on living for those of us left behind.
First to rage.
Next to pray.
Then to forgive.
Finally to turn the earth for a garden.
Just a Thought 14
Memory of the Garden at Etten by Vincent Van Gogh, 1888, courtesy Wikimedia Commons.org
Sharon Lynne Bonin-Pratt began her writing career the way so many others have done: by first doing everything else. Winning entries in grade school art, story, and essay contests convinced her to become a writer, but the real world intruded in adulthood and demanded she pay bills, raise kids, be a contributing member of the community. Along that rutted path she worked in the commercial art field designing patterns for surfer shorts, bikinis, and Hawaiian style shirts, taught after-school art through a city recreation program, and structured an art curriculum for three private schools. Ten years ago the writing muse, struggling to breathe in letters to friends and art articles, found its way to the surface. In a two-week period Shari wrote 60 pages of her first historical novel, and didn’t stop for three years. By then a second book demanded paper – OK, computer space – and now the third is in final revision stage. Of course, final revision is two words with a long shadow and a little footprint. Some folk claim they will write when the floors get vacuumed, the family accounting completed, the new garden planted. Shari is proof that all those things can be successfully ignored but not the urge to write. Her fiction explores human relationships, revenge, rage, forgiveness, redemption, and all the labyrinthine quandaries that mess up otherwise perfect lives. She resides in Southern California with her husband who’s learned to vacuum but not to cook. And the garden needs help.
Sharon Bonin-Pratt's Ink Flare 
Comments on: "Prayer" (30)
How wonderful you put it Sharon. Your words coupled with this extraordinary painting by Van Gogh are more than enough..
Miriam
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I’m glad you liked it, Miriam. The painting seems perfect.
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Sometimes the gardening part seems like a lot of hard work when grieving. This was lovely.
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It is – but there are many ways of planting a garden. And many benefits upon doing so. Thank you, Adrienne.
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I’m not sure I’d get past rage. Hmmm….
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I have a very hard time and I backslide all the time. Thanks for reading, Jacqui.
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Beautiful words, and true.
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Thank you, Peggy.
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I LOVE it!!!! and not just because it’s a short read.
You done did it – Four lines of perfection.
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Thank you, Judy – you made me feel validated.
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Very touching, Shari. In a few short words you brought tears to my eyes.
-Jenna
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Thank you, Jenna, though I didn’t mean to make you cry.
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What a wonderful post, Sharon. And full of wisdom. I’ve found that planting and nurturing a garden is the best therapy – for any loss. Thank you.
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It is good therapy, Betty, even if planting a garden is spending time with an elderly shut in, writing a check for someone in need, or walking along the beach and watching the waves break.
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That’s a wonderful way to think of gardening – as metaphor, for ways to be of service to others, for cultivating acts of giving. Thank you, Sharon.
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I like the way you wrote it – cultivating acts of giving.
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This is so succinct and Beautiful 💜
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Thank you, Willow. I’ve been trying to say more with fewer words.
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Sharon, sometimes a few words say so much – as is the case with your moving post. The garden seems to be the place to heal, soothe our soul and often the only activity one can carry out in the midst of grief. The painting complements your post beautifully, the women seem so full of sorrow despite the colours of the blossom all around. Hugs xx
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Van Gogh’s brilliance is in touching something much deeper in our hearts than the painted surface. I like the women in the foreground, one of whom is older and more frail, and the third woman bent to her task of tending the flowers. The relationship between the women and the garden is suggested but he lets us viewers determine the details.
Thank you for your kind comment about my writing, Annika. I’ve been trying to write one brief post a week and one that addresses issues broadly.
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Beautiful Sharon. I love your steps – what a healing place a garden can be. The cycle of life is ever present in the garden and just having that soil between your fingers gives renewal. I always feel for Van Gogh – what a troubled soul he had yet he could express himself so vividly on canvas.
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Thanks, Irene. I’m not a great gardener but I adore all flora and enjoy visiting, even the gardens of friends.
I’m glad you noted Van Gogh’s brilliance, proving what determination (and extraordinary talent) can effect despite one’s problems, and he sadly had many.
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Courage to you and may the harvest of the earth’s garden bring you life, wisdom and strength.
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These are very kind words, thank you.
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Superb
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Thank you.
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It is my true pleasure xo
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Wishing you fulfillment.
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Beautiful words thanks so much and you
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I’m pleased you found this worthy.
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