My husband’s grandmother passed away this morning. She finally succumbed to the massive stroke that she had suffered from a few weeks ago. While normally I try to be light hearted on this blog, I do feel obligated to note the passing of those who are dear to me in some way and who I feel leave the gardening world a little less by their passing. Grandma Mary was certainly one of those people.
Literally half my current garden comes from the bittersweet kindness of Grandma Mary. When she became too ill to care for her own garden, she offered to let me have whatever I would like from the yard. I carefully dug up plants and moved them to my own garden. Miniature irises, daylilies, peonies, a beautiful dinner plate hibiscus and a great many other plants came to my yard to live on. She was sad that she could not care for them, but glad that another gardener would be able to enjoy them.
Grandma Mary’s garden was the stuff of horticultural legends, so I am told. A cottage garden of cottage gardens, to hear my husband tell of it. Whatever she saw that took her fancy, she found a home in her garden for it. No rhyme or reason to their placement, just a cacophony of beautiful things to look at. Everything flourished under her hands.
My husband has often spoken of the fact that he thinks that I am a lot like his Grandma Mary, which honors me greatly. He speaks fondly of her vigor for life and how she was a strong woman. Frailty of the heart was something that took her body and beloved plants away from her, so I think that she is happy in the peace that she has now found.
Somewhere up in heaven, there is an empty plot of land that is rich in good dark soil that only wanted its owner to finally arrive and tend to it. She has arrived and I bet if we could see her now, she would be planting her very first flower in her new beds with hands that are once again strong.
I know that sometimes my husband’s Uncle John stops by to read this blog, so if you are out there Uncle John… I am so sorry for your loss. She was a wonderful woman.