Making Peace

As I write this September 1, it has been one year to the day since we lost our kitty Lucy. She was very, very sick towards the end and it was an extremely painful process. It haunts me every day, i.e., her suffering. Lucy is buried in our garden with a wreath made of mossy oak twigs adorning her grave. Someday I will make something more permanent, but for now this feels appropriate.

This has been a hard day but I find something has shifted. I made peace with her passing just today, as much as is possible. This morning, FM and I said a prayer for her, made an offering of bird food to the bird friends who visit their feeder just next to Lucy's grave, we lit some incense and hugged one another. Lucy is at peace in this garden and I felt a weight lift from me as if she were letting me know that it's all okay. As all life enters this world it also leaves.

I spent the day in the garden, remembering Lucy when she was full of life in happier days while simultaneously and quietly observing and sensing this shift. These photos are from the day in the garden, Lucy filling my heart with love and peace.

Buddha sits watching the rising sun in the east with Lucy's grave at his back.

This is the first place Lucy would run towards when we would let her out for her walks in the garden. 

Warm flower colors and a tinge of autumn in the air. This palette is quieter, more subdued.

The morning sun lights the border next to Lucy's grave.

I've spent much time sitting here staring out into the garden this past year.

The little things - Rosa moyesii rose hips.

Aster subspciatus, Douglas' aster, our native flower with a visiting honey bee.

The meadow garden in full sun. Lucy especially enjoyed getting lost in this garden bed.

The fire pit, the bed behind with a fresh coat of compost. When the sun warms the stones, it's a perfect place for a kitty to lounge.

Through the labyrinth garden.

At the edge of the labyrinth garden.

Cotinus 'Pink Champagne', also in the border next to Lucy's grave. 

 The border next to Lucy's grave, left side.

The right side. This past year the border has filled in considerably and is one of my favorites. It feels resolved and lush. I'm glad it's right next to Lucy.

Sedum 'Matrona' is coming into bloom and the honeybees couldn't be busier. She really loved watching the insects.

The edge of the labyrinth garden, Oscar the agave in the foreground.

Zauschneria californica 'Bowman's' - a very upright California fuchsia that has grown beautifully this year. This is sited in a very tough spot next to our gate where it receives almost no water. I think this is the first time I've photographed it as well as really taken notice of it.

Honeybee drinking water from a rock in the birdbath.  

The gravel garden.

Cornus 'Midwinter Fire' glows in the evening sun. Those leaves are turning to gold very quickly.

Yesterday Annie wandered down to Lucy's grave (behind her) and sat there for a long time. Animals know. As one stage in life is over, a new one emerges. Annie is quite ready for adventures in the garden, I'm sure with Lucy watching over her.

Her grave today with a bouquet of garden flowers which includes, of course, cat mint, her very favorite.

Sweet Lucy
2005 - 2018

I don't really know why I was able to let go of my pain this day, perhaps it was because I understand it's me that's suffering, not Lucy. Thinking back, I am glad that Lucy had the chance to enjoy the garden and experience nature, for the garden is a healing place. It feels right that her grave is in the heart of the garden because while working there I think of Lucy, and of all those who have passed before me. I think of life and am quite aware that I am alive. How the plant in front of me is alive. I think of connections in the soil, of plants communicating with one another and with the insect world. I hear the song of hundreds of birds and croaking of frogs and I am reminded to be kind to creatures, to one another. We are all one world, after all. I am sad, to be sure, for I miss her company. But I am consciously attempting to let go of the pain, a totally different thing.

We all experience loss. It is painful. But it is in nature that I find peace. As gardeners we can appreciate and are sensitive to the cycles of life. As I said one year ago when she died, if given the choice I would do it all over again and embrace the whole package - the suffering, the loss, the love, in a word, life.

Here's to all of our furry family and friends who make our journey on this planet a very special one, indeed.