I spent a couple of hours in the garden just now…planting and watering and fertilizing, covering with hay and squealing over sprouting potatoes, discussing stuff over the fence with a neighbor, generally acting…NORMAL. Peacefully, happily, normal. Dirt under my fingers and imagining Himself on the other side of the picket fence in his shop, equally happy making sawdust and noise. I miss him so much but it was kind of like being with him because of how much he wanted me to have this garden to piddle in, as much as I wanted him to have that shop for piddling and making pretty things.
He and I looked out for each other’s interests. Way back a long time ago, when we were friends but not romantically involved, he made some comment offhand about how the person he was involved with (at the time) had informed him that he was not to have a workshop because she didn’t want sawdust tracked into the house. I recall being appalled by that, because it seemed like her floors were more important than his peace of mind. I was also in a relationship with someone else, who had made it known that I WOULD work outside the home because daycare was just fine for kids and he wanted me to be doing something useful and money making. Because apparently raising children and keeping a house wasn’t really useful. Himself was equally appalled. It was these attitudes that sort of brought us more together.
I wanted him happy, able to do the things he loved and apparently he felt the same way. It’s a nice way to run a marriage, each person wanting the other one to be content and loved, instead of each person looking to see what they can get from the other one. It’s something I have told my own kids…you know she’s the right one when her happiness is more important to you than your own, and she feels that way about you. All that “sacrifice” for the other one…it’s not really sacrifice at all when watching him/her get such pleasure…I enjoyed seeing himself working in his shops, building his stuff and perfecting his techniques as much as he enjoyed seeing me covered with dirt and hay in my hair. We would sit down with our respective catalogs and make out seed/tool/parts orders, or go to the place in Pooler with the fancy wood or the garden center with the fancy plants and choose with each other what seemed the nicest. He knew enough about what I did and I knew enough about what he did to help make intelligent decisions about it all. Plus, I benefited from the pretty wood as much as he benefited from the tasty vegetables.
It was wonderful to be able to go out there and think of him and smile, knowing his hand was in that garden as much as mine. It was sad to look over at the empty shop, but remembering the Allman Bros on the stereo in there, and coming inside to a house filled with his handiwork was heartwarming. I really like being able to think about him without sorrow…it is a gentle feeling, still very new and the sorrow is still there. But it is kind of like that first warm day in the early Spring…you know good things are coming soon, even with the remaining Winter lingering.