Year 3, Column 16: GARDEN OF GRIEF…

With Dad at the Master Gardener Plant Fair in Hardin County:  Apprentice and Master.

With Dad at the Master Gardener Plant Fair in Hardin County: Apprentice and Master.

This week, the garden at Groundhog Hill holds little interest for me.

The Zinnias are no longer beautiful. The Peruvian Purple Corn is no longer intriguing. The Pumpkins hold little, if any, promise for future Joy.

I feel Bereft.

The weather forecast for this week is severe thunderstorms every day, and that is perfectly fine with me.

Come, Wind. Come, Storms. Do your absolute worst.

This week, I do not wish to pick up debris, to pull any weeds, to move Forward.

The Bees may enjoy the Sunflowers to their little heart’s content if, in fact, they have hearts. As for my own, I know it’s there, but I do not feel much: Numbness. Dull aches. Lethargy.

This week, and this week only, all Feelings are for the Birds.

As for Thoughts, well, I can’t seem to stop having those. Cursed brain.

I think I’ll feel better soon. I think I’ll return to the garden once the ground dries. I think I’ve been here before…in This Place… Grief.

Grief is that dwelling that’s just down the hill from the towns of Anger and Denial and is not far from the village of Acceptance. However, once you arrive in Grief, your ability to see beyond the county line is diminished.

You lose your Ability To See.

In Grief, all sounds are muted. All colors are faded. All touch is unheeded.

Also, there’s nothing to eat in Grief but funeral food: Endless trays of finger sandwiches and sheet cakes. Not a salad to be had.

The population of Grief varies.

Upon arrival, it feels like a Town of One. However, there are visitors in Grief who have stayed for quite a long time, and only since my arrival, did I realize where these people whom I see every day actually dwell.

In Grief, you are isolated from another. Compassion, Empathy, and Love are powerless. Grief can trap You, ensnare You, immobilize You.

I know from past experience that the best way to get the hell out of Grief is to just sit there for a bit. To not resist. To feel what you feel.

If you are among the Lucky, time spent in Grief does not last.

Love. Love lasts.

More later.

About Surfing Hollywood

Steve La Rue is an internationally recognized leader in Film & Television with 20+ years experience as a Development Executive championing such series as Buffy The Vampire Slayer, The X-Files, The Simpsons, King of the Hill, Battlestar Galactica, and Farscape. He writes, blogs, and consults on All Things TransMedia from his home at the beach in Santa Monica, CA, where he balances his life by surfing every damn day.
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4 Responses to Year 3, Column 16: GARDEN OF GRIEF…

  1. Oh yes, Grief. We all must go to that disabling place from time to time. I suppose, if you’ve never loved someone, you don’t. It’s said, that the best way to get out of there is Time. I’ve found that’s probably so.

  2. Great comment, Darlene. Thank You.

  3. Steve – I have your picture on my desktop – the one with the barn in the background. I know the zinnias will be beautiful for you again, maybe next year. Right now though, I think you need the ocean.

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