Tuesday, March 30, 2010

Physical Therapy

I am so glad we had our seder dinner last night. However, it left me missing Philip so acutely that by noon today I felt like I couldn't move. I swept and mopped the floors while the girls had their piano lessons then went to my room and lay down for an hour, weeping silently as the children and Sean played Robin Hood out in the woods and around the stream.

I never mop floors.

That was something Philip would do.

I feel like half of my body has been amputated and I am being put through a most rigorous physical therapy. I feel weak and groggy.

Someone asked a friend of mine if I were doing better, now that we are a month past his death.

Not really. But what is better? The pain is even deeper and more real than it was a month ago. He is still gone.

Vasile arrived, ready for us to prepare some biodynamic preparations for the fields, the Pfieffer Field Spray.

I wanted to be in bed. But I got up and stirred the vat of microscopic humus building stuff into the cold spring water.

Stirred until a vortex was created, then abruptly switched direction, causing a chaotic disturbance of the solution. Had to repeat this for at least 10-15 minutes per 15 gallons. All focus on the motion of my hand and arm in the water, watching the amazing transformation of splashes to a deep vortex, so smooth and even, then all came crashing down as I shifted the direction of the flow. Part of the purpose of this exercise was to thoroughly mix the solution.

I thought about the shift of direction our life has taken.

The sun felt healing. As Vasile marched off to spray the solution onto the fields, I started to putter around the gardens. Moved bricks around, yanked old weed stalks, picked up detritus. Two hours before I thought I would never want to walk outdoors again, let alone breathe.

After shifting gears, I felt like maybe someday I would want to plant a garden again. Maybe I would someday want to see something beautiful growing. Maybe I would someday be able to walk, even though I feel completely incapacitated right now.

I was glad for Vasile's visit. Different friends dropped by, Julie and kids arrived from NC. Thomas burned some weeds and brush for me to make char in a couple of garden beds.

As I forced myself to go outside and milk Coco, I thought about the healing process. How hard it is to be alone, without Philip, but how good it is to have things that force me to move. Physical therapy.

My milking view made me think of little girls and Easter dresses and boxes of home-dyed easter eggs. Baby blue sky tucked in with pale pink and lilac clouds. Celery colored willow fronds bounced against grass-green fields. Yellow daffodils glowed along the stream. The moon is full but wasn't out for me to see.

So thankful for the tasks of the day that force me to go out to enjoy. And to live.

I wish I didn't have to hurt so badly right now. I miss Philip. But the wind blows and the peepers peep and I will live.


Leonora said...

I have experienced much sadness over the loss of my dad and sister. I am always thankful when the phone rings or the kids need me. Busy hands have always been my best therapy and still are.

Physical therapy reminds me of a movie I watched recently, Seraphine. A beautiful French film biopic about the gifted but mentally unstable artist Seraphine Louis. She worked as a cleaning woman by day, painting at night. Once she was "discovered", she no longer had to work. With her time totally free to think and paint, she went insane. The hard physical labor had kept her grounded and functional.

I'm not saying we're insane, mind you! It's just an example of the value of hard work.

gingerhillery@mac.com said...

I will have to see that movie. You are so right about hard work keeping us grounded, sane, and functional. It keeps the thinking from getting way out of whack. Not to mention all the good things work does for our body.

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