Tag: life

A Dead Plant is a Reminder

Today, I found my almost-6-year-old son on this ledge worriedly kneeling over a plant.  He turned to me and pointed at it.

“What happened?” He asked.

IMG_0413

“It’s dead. Daddy killed it.”  I said.   I’m sorry Dad. It was a flippant response.  Dad  has an amazing green thumb. This spot has been a difficult gardening space and the plant has been dead for 6 months easily, probably longer.

I did not expect my son’s response.

Daire choked up and fought his tears from spilling over.  He wiped them away, trying not to let me see.

He has teared up like this before.  Recently, I described Mt St Helens eruption.  We watched a short video and his tears let loose as he learned 57 people died, all the animals gone and the trees completely blasted down. The story hurt him the way it hurt the earth.

It concerns me that he doesn’t want me to see the tears.  I gave him a kiss and told him that I loved how much he cares.  He leaned over and hugged me, a wonderful vulnerable moment shared openly.

“Do you know what happens when we die?”  I asked.

He shook his head.

“We become a part of the world around us.  When I die I will become a part of you, and Dana and your favorite places on the earth.”

He nodded, thinking.

“I don’t think it happens that way.”  He said finally.

“What happens?”

“I think we get old and then we die, then we are born again.”  He nodded firmly, very confident.

“Yes. I believe that happens too. We become new beings.”  I paused.  “Is that sad or scary?”

He was still fighting his tears but he said “No.”  Nothing more.

But it is change. Monumental, unstoppable, life-altering change.

CONTACT ME

[email protected]

E-MAIL LIST

Join my E-mail List Here to get current news of events and special deals. I respect your privacy and will not share this information with others.

FACEBOOK

I offer special deals and offers to my Facebook fans.   Come join me at Marika’s Art Studio

Spare Change

Spare Change and Legacies

My father, who died 17 years ago, used to keep a 5 gallon water jug for spare change. It was a way of saving, a game and my confession: my brother and I used to “steal/borrow” from it as children.

Dad wanted to see if he could fill it up but he expected to live much longer than 49 years…so he didn’t. And our sneaking didn’t help his goal, the quarters disappeared fast.

After he died, my mom kept it and added a little to it over the years.

Today, she handed it over to our kids; a heavy bowlful of change that can’t be counted in one sitting. It is a gift from a ghost and from a time when having kids were little more than maybe a thought to the 23-year-old me.

My kids are through-the-roof excited.

Dad touches them, with a small habit, very tangibly right now like a small bit of time travel.  I’m happy he could give them something they feel at this age, a small brushing of souls.

He touches us in many unseen ways too.

And maybe he meant to save the money for them and maybe he didn’t. I don’t know.

But legacies play this way. We think we know what we leave behind, but we don’t. We just do our best and leave it for the people left behind to make meaning of it. The meaning making is our legacy.