She sat down right beside me on the mound of dirt that is my garden. “Why?” I asked tears streaming down my face.
“Because it is all you have ever known.”
I found myself squeezing the palm of her hand and watched as her fingers interlaced with me. “I’m scared.”
“That’s ok,” a heavy sigh left her mouth, “but you need to finally let me go.” Her words left a sharp pain directed right at my chest.
“I don’t think I can do that.”
“It won’t be forever,” she smiled. “I will visit again and again most likely until the day you die. But you need to let me go. I am doing this because I love you.” I turned my head away from her gaze wiping my eyes with the back of my sleeve. “There is no joy when I am here,” she continued, “and what is living if there is no joy? You need joy.” I felt her start to stand as her fingers released my own.
“Wait!” I gasped, “please don’t leave me.”
“I’ll see you again,” she smiled and I watched at my own reflection walking away.
Widow is a place for grievers and dreamers. In this Substack you will find pieces on grief, ancestral veneration, herbalism, and Italian Folk practices.
This took me right back to our sacred and tender time together, Jenna. Thank you for sharing your words and your heart, then and now. Such a beautiful honoring of your journey with grief and how it's companioned you and what it needs, and you need, to stay true to your heart.