Healing Grows in a Garden

It was December 20, 2004. I had just finished putting a thousand lights on the Christmas tree, anticipating the arrival of my son, Byron, from Sacramento. The phone rang, “Hi, Mom! Remember to pick me up tomorrow morning. I love you, Mom.”  Excited and overjoyed with the anticipation of my son and best friend coming home, my husband and I went to bed. 

We were awakened from a dead sleep by a pounding on the front door. Half asleep we stumbled to the door. Cautiously opening the door, we stared at two policemen with grim expressions.  “Are you Joe and Charlotte Klee?” they asked. “Yes.” “We are sorry to inform you that your son, Byron Jones was killed in a tragic accident tonight.”

I collapsed.

Four years earlier, many changes had taken place in my life:
a new husband, a new home and a new garden to create. When I left my former life, I said that I could leave the marriage and the home, but not my treasured plants. One by one, I captured all my favorites; the gorgeous pink peonies with their powdery scent, the white magnolia I had spent hours shaping, and my favorite rose, Gertrude Jekyll. Working tirelessly I potted them up. When the trucks pulled up, I had one for my furniture and one for all of my plants. It was loaded to the brim. What was I thinking? We had found a home with a courtyard where I could place all of my cherished pots. Being on a corner lot, I knew the courtyard would reach out to everyone who entered and warmly welcome them. The abundance of flowers, color and fragrances, the variety of plants, their placement in layers of varying heights and depths, would lift the spirits of all who entered.

Byron, my only son, had his mother’s heart and passion for the world of nature. He joyously worked for Monrovia as a sales rep. When he saw our new home and yard for the first time, he excitedly said, “Mom, let’s tear it all out and start over.” Begin with a clean slate – Wow. My life’s longing for a blooming dream garden could now be a reality. We had no rules, no blueprints. The only goal was to create a garden with anything and everything that would make our hearts sing.

What an amazing son to help his mother. The two of us would hop into his Ford pickup and cruise in and out of every nursery on the planet, at least it seemed. Never had I been so excited!  Our energy was fast and flowing. We laid flagstone walkways, built archways and trellises. And we planted our new treasures.  We worked feverishly side by side transforming this humble lot into the sanctuary it is today. We were incorporating memories and healing power without evening knowing it.

After Byron’s death I was paralyzed with shock. Six dark months passed. In early May I found myself looking out my kitchen  window. It was then I heard a gentle calling from my garden outside. I believe it was the sun’s warming rays reflecting off the water fountain that first caught my eye. Nearby the chickadees and the nuthatches pecking at the suet feeders reminded me of healing rites of spring. But to re-enter the garden that Byron and I created together, was re-entering this world without him.

Hesitantly I ventured out. 

The garden was lush and beautiful. I drew in a full deep breath, the first I had in what seemed like forever. The aroma of spring instantly began to lift my spirit. An unseen web of energy was reviving me. The garden opened her eager arms to comfort me and I immediately felt her restorative powers. The garden Byron and I had created together was communicating the message of life, and I was ready to listen.

Healing is a process, a process that promotes overall well being.  Inside the plant walls of my garden there is safety and serenity, a place where I find shelter, comfort and relief. All my senses are activated. I walk through the rose arbor, experiencing the feelings of passing through the doorway of healing.  Rounding the corner, the fresh breeze brushes my face and I hear the wind chimes, their comforting sound is music to my ears. With connection to the past and present, there is now harmony. There is an explosion of color, and I see the results of all of our hard work in their blooms. Each color has meaning, significance that helps to heal a wide array of dis-eases. For me, the color red is invigorating, pink is romantic, purple brings inner calm, green strength and blue relaxation. The drama of the lilies, in so many different shades of orange, brightens my mood with optimism and unbridled happiness awakening me from the gray days.  Blue flowers are the “doorways to my spirit” and my favorites.  I come upon the tall blue delphiniums, the blue Siberian iris, corydalis, and those engaging hardy blue geraniums – such a wondrous bounty of pleasures. I spot the Ligularia leaves surrounded by the hostas and woodland ferns, and realize how omnipresent the color green is in nature. Growth, regeneration and strength comes to mind.

What wisdom my garden offers me.   It can bring me peace in the simple water bowls scattered and tucked around my plants. They are like mirrors reflecting the blue sky and the clouds. I watch as the colorful flowers dance in their reflection, as if they hear their own cheerful tune. My heart warms to watch a butterfly pause for a brief drink, and a yellow lab slurps the fresh water during a walk with his master.

In the months and years that followed my loss, something wonderful happened, my garden became a magnet. When I work in the garden – pruning, cultivating and planting – curious neighbors and even total strangers stop by to visit. I identify plants and answer questions, and cultivate new friends from these moments.  Friends, who have also helped with the healing.  I have been introduced to new garden clubs, and have had the opportunity to share the story of how my magical garden came to fruition. I must confess that each talk is emotional for me and often for my audience as well. The small piece of earth that Byron and I poured our hearts into has taken on a moniker of its own, “The Healing Garden.” A once private experience, I now share with many lovers of flowers, plants and the earth.

Each morning, still in my nightgown, I gather flowers for sumptuous bouquets to fill our home. A joyous feeling sweeps over me. And even though my grief lies just beneath the surface, my garden keeps it at bay. The garden takes care of me when I cannot take care of myself. Looking back, I am able to see how the past events have worked together for the good.

I thankfully embrace the happiness my son and I shared, and I feel his continuing presence in everything that grows here.

Join us for "Creating a Healing Garden" with Charlotte Klee, Saturday, June 5th at 10:00 am in our Sherwood store.

To contact Charlotte for a speaking engagement, email her at: mimiklee@verizon.net