Great sorrow flooded The Kitchen in the early morning hours of February 14, 2025. Mom left her earth home when she stepped straight into the arms of Jesus. Mom is happy. She is delighted. She is whole and full of joy. I am gutted. But Mom had to go. It was her time. She needed to go because she had a hot Valentine’s date with Dad. Dad planned a hot date for his sweetheart, the greatest woman who ever lived, and she needed to keep that date. But now what? Mom is delighted but sorrow is fighting joy to take center stage in my life. Sorrow wants all the attention.
This weekend sorrow learned that it has a place but it may not remain center stage forever. Saturday morning I rose from my slumber a moment before Mr. Sunshine rose from his slumber. I sleepily stumbled into my garden and woke up standing next to a messy winter garden bed. My not quite awake sad heart was searching for signs of life. I desperately needed to find the hope of new life. And what did my hopeful eyes see in the faint light of dawn? Rhubarb! There is the rhubarb. It is little. It is not yet ready to turn into Mom’s cherished rhubarb pie but it is poking its funny little stem out of its winter hiding place. And spinach! My seeds have sprouted! And what is that? SNOW PEAS! I will soon enjoy a snow pea stir fry dinner. Yum! I was not ready to trot back inside but my bare feet were growing cold. It is not yet bare foot weather. Mom thought Memorial Day weekend was the start of bare foot weather. I was never inclined to wait so long. Maybe I should listen to Mom. My feet grew cold in the early morning garden.
On the way inside I noticed the daffodils opening up into full spring bloom. My sons gave me my daffodil bulbs many years ago as Easter table centerpieces. I planted the bulbs so I could enjoy the love spring after spring . They bring joy to the garden. The Mother’s Day lilies from my daughter have not yet popped out of the earth. They will. They will bring joy later.
Sorrow is fighting joy. Sorrow wants to keep its dark shadow hanging over The Kitchen. Sorrow wants to spill into the garden. Joy wants to reclaim its rightful centerstage place. Joy wants to bring sunshine and life and laughter back to The Kitchen and all the garden beds. There is a time and place for sorrow but joy needs to reclaim centerstage.
I do not doubt that the tears will continue to flow as the messy winter garden turns into summer abundance. I will think of Mom all summer long. I might even feel an extra dose of sorrow as I tearfully harvest the first big red tomato. I will peel and slice it for dinner and maybe even have a hard time eating it as I think of Mom’s love of tomatoes. I will bake her favorite pies and cook green beans southern style with a little extra bacon in them. I will spend lots of time in the summer sun and will harvest and preserve everything that comes my way just the way Mom did. When I pressure can summer meats and veggies, I will giggle over Mom’s distrust of pressure canning. I will think of her shooing us out of the house lest the pressure canner explode, sending green beans into the heavens.
For now, though, I grieve the loss of Mom. I know she had to go. She had a hot date with Dad.
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