Lessons From the Garden

I was hurting so much, I wasn't even talking to God. Then my friend came up with a suggestion that I didn't understand. At least at first

- LEAH VIDAL

I should have been excited about our new house. After many relocations for my husband’s career, we were finally staying put in the San Antonio, Texas, area. We’d moved so often, I had unpacking down to a science. But this time it was taking longer than usual. I was still shuttling between this neighborhood and our old neighborhood, 20 minutes away.

I thought keeping busy would help. It didn’t. I’d unwrap things, such as our living room decorations, arrange them and think, Mom would love how this looks. Or I’d reach for my phone to text her a photo and get her opinion.

A big reason Mike and I had decided on this house was that there would be room for my mother and my brother, Ivan, who had special needs, to come live with us. Mom and I chatted most mornings over coffee, and I’d talked up the house until I convinced her to move from Florida to Texas.

Mom was a healthy and active 72, but I knew she could use my help taking care of Ivan. I daydreamed about how wonderful it would be for all of us to live together. I pictured leisurely breakfasts with Mom and Ivan after Mike and the kids had left for work and school. Maybe we’d sit out back when the weather was nice.

Months after I had gotten Mom on board to make the move, she called with devastating news. Ivan had died in his sleep. Mom said she felt like she was going to pass out. I stayed on the phone with her until the paramedics arrived. The next thing I knew, she was hospitalized with an irregular heartbeat. I got to Florida as fast as I could.

Two weeks after my brother passed, my mom went into cardiac arrest. I believe she died of a broken heart.