What my Lawn Mower Taught Me

Posted: Jun 19, 08 4:52pm

I have had a rough few years. As some know, I spent the summer of 2005 recovering from hernia surgery. My hernia was a repeat offender, so that time they repaired it with a piece of mesh the size of a business envelope.

After that, I developed various complications with my female organs, that resulted in several more surgeries, some possibly for no really good reason. At any rate, I was once again suffering during the summer of 2006.

The summer of 2007 was the true challenge. I finally had my hysterectomy, but my mother was also diagnosed with end-stage lung cancer. In May they gave her 3 months to live. She died the following August.

Although I wasn't fully aware of it, I was in a depression during the past three years. I knew I was sick and tired of being sick and tired, but the idea of being depressed didn't hit me until my mother was diagnosed.

I spent last summer trying to do and be everything my mother needed. I spent time with my children and my nephew, trying to help them adapt to what was going on, and I made myself the person to look after my father. I was the rock, despite the fact that I was having a hard time with the idea of her leaving me.

My mother had no fear of death. She had "been there, done that" with a massive heart attack back in 1984, so she knew what to expect, and after a short period of time, was ready for it. But she waited for me. My mother didn't let go until I told her it was time. Even though I had the priviledge of being the person she needed to accept it before she left, it still weighed on me that she died seconds after I told her it was time.

I was also the one everybody turned to after she died. When is the funeral? Where? What music do you want played? What type of urn do you want for her? My father wandered around in a state of shock, so I was the one my siblings turned to for the answers. I arranged it. I wrote the obituary. I notified as many people as my befuddled mind would bring up. Then I cried for hours during the wee hours before the service. I told my husband I couldn't do it, because if I did it then it really was over. I finally cried myself to sleep. I made it through the day, and the dinner that followed, and managed to survive it all. Or so I thought.

I spent the last 10 months hiding. I had been in the habit of talking to my mom on the phone daily, so it became hard for me to talk to any of my friends on the phone anymore. I had spent time in the yard with my mother and children, with her watching them while I did heavy stuff like mowing or cleaning the pool. So I spent most of my time inside.

I would spend time on the computer, sorting through her old pictures (which I had started putting in albums for her to make it easier for her to view them), and writing when I had to. I learned to knit and crochet. These were things she had tried to teach me, but I couldn't grasp. Using her books, I taught myself. In no time at all, I had done several baby blankets. But most of my activities centered around being isolated.

Yesterday something changed. I mowed. Yes, it was still something I did alone, but I had the sun on my face, the wind in my hair, and my iPod on my ears. And as it always had, the music talked to me.

I was trying to get as much of the front yard done as I could before the storm brewing in the west moved in. On the iPod a song called Taking Back Control started to play as a gust of rainy smelling wind blew in my face. Yes, I was mowing again after three years. I was taking back control. And the songs kept coming. I Will Remember You, It's Not Over, and Strong Enough screamed their common sense into my ears.

The storm blew in, sprinkled a bit, saw me getting back to living, and quickly shifted south so that I could keep my momentum going. So I could continue to take lesson from the iPod and the lawn mower.

I mowed until it was too dark to see what I was cutting before I came in. My whole body hurt, but I spent the day living. Mother Nature reminded me that she'll help me if I need it. My mother picked songs for me that would kick me in the butt. Mind you, my iPod is set to play music randomly, out of 900+ songs, the ones I needed played.

I still need to get the pictures organized and in the albums properly, I still have a couple of blankets to finish, I still have a lot of writing to do, for my articles and my book, and I still need all of you. But all of those things will receive a lot less of my attention as I get back to living. Because it felt good to live again.