When it rains, it pours, and sometimes the accompanying winds threaten to take the roofs right off what little shelter we have in the world. And sometimes…sometimes the roof goes.
Heather Blakey, webmistress, teacher, guide, guru, Friend, is in the eye of such a storm yet again. I have not offered her any words of wisdom or comfort because, one, she is older and wiser than I, and two, could any word be true enough to comfort a daughter watching her mother die? Not from my personal experience on the matter. And so I’ve read the kind words sent from others and wondered about storms and grief, my own grief and memory of grief rising up like the floods on the Canadian Prairies.
Heather’s mother has cancer of the eosophagus, and I lost a very, very dear and important friend/guide in my life to that just a few months ago. Her absence is very keenly felt in my life today. Tears well for her near daily every time I go near my gardens, a subject we discussed often. Elizabeth loved gardening and adored all plants, but she was wise enough to assure me that “A weed is ANYTHING you don’t want in your garden, my love. If you don’t like roses, then OUT they go, and don’t you feel a whit of guilt about it. A garden is supposed to be a thing of pleasure, not a task to be tended to grudgingly. Make it what you love and to hell with what anyone else says.”
The most important women in my life, and I think the most important women on earth indeed, are those who are strong enough and smart enough to encourage the world’s daughters to tell society to “go to hell and just let me live as I was meant to live, in peace, in beauty, in pleasure.” From what I have heard, Heather’s mother is such a treasure, and so her weakening condition is a heartbreak that touches all intelligent women.
I wish Heather a continued connection with that deep down still spot inside her that withstands the ebb and flow of every flood, and the force of every emotional hurricane. I can think of nothing more to say in the face of a normal but nonetheless devastating pain of life.
Love and honour,