With grief, it’s easy to shut the door.
A good friend and co-worker gave me great advice, especially as the holidays and Corrie’s birthday approach.
“Make a plan.”
If you know anything about grief from the loss of a family member, friend, or a pet; you’re familiar with the stages of grief.
But, I’m not typing words of wisdom on my keyboard about the stages of grief.
When it comes to grief, my husband, John, and I take action.
This action has taken time as we have adapted to a new school year, dealt with our grief over Corrie’s death and help my parents as my mother begins recovery from surgery on her shoulder.
We had cancelled a volunteer day to work in the garden because my mother was scheduled to come home on Saturday, and she might’ve needed me. Not to mention COVID-19.
John proudly moved ahead on the garden for his little girl.
Just as we’ve been told it would be easier to tear down our historic, old home and rebuild again, the piles of dirt are not beautiful. As our house is beautiful to us, and was to Corrie, we know the garden will reflect Corrie’s love of flowers and the outside world.
The dirt and the bricks for what will be the retaining wall will help prevent soil from washing away from Corrie’s Memorial Garden.
As John and I sat on our front porch with Corrie’s puppy, Rosie, we spoke of how proud we were of the work we’d completed Saturday. While he worked on the garden set up, I did my weekly work in the cemetery where Corrie rests.
I do what I call a Kinder Memorial Walk. Throughout her recovery, my mother has asked me repeatedly if she could tell people about it.
“I don’t have a problem with it,” I said.
I care for about twenty-two children’s graves between trimming the grass around them, decorating them, and taking fresh plants to some of them. I also spread rose petals around all of them. While I officially have twenty-two, I also have four others I care for within one family.
This particular family has four children buried in their family section. The children would all be my age had they lived. I generally trim and spread roses around them.
My mother and father claimed they did not need me yesterday as my brother was with them, so I worked on the Corrie’s plants.
With my reputation for a brown thumb, I think my father, who mows grass around the neighborhood and dreamed of becoming a landscape architect, is proud of me.
John had blown the majority of the leaves. I worked around the plants to remove the leaves from them.
With some seeds I had, I read the package. I planted two new flowers according to the directions. One of them is in the dark pink pot above.
I worked until after dark caring for the various plants.
I cannot stand the idea of an empty cemetery pot, especially next to a child’s grave. I bring new flowers to Edith Eudora’s grave and Corrie’s. I don’t leave them forever. I replace them, and bring the older flowers home for the garden.
As December approaches, I’m making plans as I deal with grief proactively to create rather than react. I plan to work with her garden over the break. We plan to have a beautiful floral arrangement made for her birthday that I will take to her grave. Corrie will also have her grave marker before Christmas.
This is good news considering I was worried the grave would take longer.
I am planning for the change of flowers and decorations on Corrie’s and the children’s graves for Christmas. This gives a powerful focus to transform a place of somber sadness into a joy and celebration of life.
Corrie's Season 