For her, every day was the same, but still different in every way. Crippled severally with arthritis in both hands, hunched over, and using a walker she went about her day. She was as devoted to my Grandfather as he was to her. She would painstakingly prepare his breakfast, lunch and dinner. He was a farmer in the true sense of the word. He tenderly cared for her as he cared for and took pride in his land. She asked for very little, but gave so much to my grandfather and to her family.
She couldn’t get out and work in the yard or work out in a flower garden like so many can. She was totally housebound without assistance. There was a flower garden placed outside in the front yard, where, when she would sit on the couch to knit, or watched TV she could see her flower garden. Different kinds of flowers were placed there lovingly by my grandfather.
As a child I never really thought about it, but as I got older it dawned on me the lack of weeds in that flower garden, that no one needed to tended to this flower garden. My Grandfather being so busy with the daily running of the fields, caring for the farm animals and his other full time job, had little time left to take care of the flower garden. The garden was always neat and trim. There were never any weeds to pull up. She loved her flowers outside as well as the ones she had growing inside.
She became crippled with arthritis very early in her life, but still loved her flowers and plants as much as my grandfather loved his land. He worked hard and toiled his land to keep it up and working every day. The flower garden continued to flourish and grow and put out flowers year after year with very little care.
As she grew more tired and wearier, losing her battle with arthritis, her flower garden continues to give her pleasure never slowing or growing dim.
The year my Grandmother passed away was hard on everyone especially my Grandfather who was so devoted to her right up till death separated for 30 plus years until his death at 97. Her death also seemed to affect her flower garden.
It was that year for the first time, I noticed the weeds. I was surprised to say the least. It was then I realized someone of a higher standing was taking care of my Grandmother’s flower garden when she was alive. Someone knew how much she loved her flowers, knew how much she gave to her family and husband. She asked for so little and gave so much, someone else was there quietly tending to her flower garden, showing her how pleased He was with her and how much he loved her. I can hear Him saying “there will be no weeds growing in my garden.”