I found beauty

I found beauty in the place I least expected it…deep in the throes of grief.

My mother had a sixth sense, passed down the family line, Crone, Mother to Maiden - we trace it as far back as my great, great, grandmother - but it surely goes further.

It’s something she never could quite understand or come to terms with, and I experience a similar thing; knowing things before they happen.

She had an uncanny ability with future foresight, she would either dream it, think it or “have a feeling”.

There were a lot of major life events she predicted that came to fruition – but the most jarring was her death.

I’ll never forget the day she told me, “Kimberly, I don’t know how, or when, but I feel it’s soon, and you have to be prepared for it”.

Immediately I felt the chill of those words with full body goosebumps. We both became so deathly still that you could hear a pin drop.

Fast forward 10 months and she was diagnosed with stage four Peripheral T-cell Lymphoma, she passed away 4 months later. She was 61 years old.

My mother had been living on her own on a beautiful acreage with animals she loved and in a home that she cherished.

I was always concerned about the fact that she was getting older, was isolated and rural life can be tough. On occasion I would bring up in conversation, “Do you think you should downsize and move into town.”

She was adamant about staying. One thing she said about it that sticks is, “Kimberly, I can’t leave my trees, look at them, they are so beautiful, I would really miss them, I want to stay with my trees”. She was referring to the row of beautiful red gum trees growing alongside a creek that ran through her back paddock.

I didn’t get it.

She had a great view of them from her glassed-in verandah, which she poured so much more of her energy and resources into than the house. It was where she spent most of her time, surrounded by many lush potted plants and cute garden ornaments.

I didn’t get that either.

Not until after she died. Not until after I lived in her home, took care of her pets, her garden and her trees. After she died, I was devastated. I felt like I had lost the only person who ever really understood me.

And in a moment of deep grief, when I was sitting in her cherished outdoor haven as the sun was going down, I burst into tears. I started howling. At first, I was questioning if I could ever feel good again. It had been 18 months, I had socially isolated, lost a lot of weight from my already slim frame and was a shell of who I had been. Even though a lot of time had passed I still felt in the thick of it, buried deep in the throes of grief.

Then this little voice popped into my mind saying, “You can only grieve as deeply as you loved”.

And I swear, as I acknoweledged this voice, the air around me lit with a million iridescent sparkles. A deep knowing settled in me. Within that instant, I looked around and I felt as if for the first time, I was seeing the plants and the trees the way my mother saw them. And I thought – “Well, no wonder you didn’t want to leave, this is beautiful.”

I found beauty, and an appreciation for my grief. I felt grateful for the love I had shared with my mum when she was alive, and for the fact that the love still lived on.