I will not avoid the place in the garden where you fell, the place where I found you. I will not look away from it, nor begrudge it its living. This place held you in those moments when I did not. I will not blame the clover or the yarrow or the oaks. And I will not be afraid to sit in this place, not ever. This ground was the last place on earth that you touched, the soil got in your eyes and your hair and on your skin. I remember cleaning it off as gently as I could and wondering if you could feel me then.
I will keep this place clean and I will cultivate this soil. I will plant poppies and think of you often. I will admire every stone you placed, every shrub you planted. There will be life in the ground you last touched and I will be holding a part of you there.
“When you cry I guide your tears toward the garden of kisses I once planted on your cheek, so you know they are all perennials.” Andrea Gibson, from Love Letter From the Afterlife

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