The day you left this Earth was a quiet one.

It was overcast skies and thick August heat.

It was nothing and it was everything in the same breath.

It felt as if the Earth should have stopped, just for a moment.

A deep and somber sigh from her core,

one that would soften the waves and calm the wind.

Instead there was nothing.

No grand display of grief and mourning.

Nothing at all.

I watched the sun rise the following morning.

Shades of orange and pink brushed the sky and I wondered where you were.

I searched the sky for you.

I found clouds, and birds, and airplanes but I did not find you.

I lifted my face toward the sun, eyes closed tightly, tears streaming and whispered prayers pleading for you to return.

I begged the clock to turn back time, just this once.

Oh please just once.

I sat in the summer heat and recalled memories of when you were young.

I pictured holding you in my arms, breathing you in, memorizing your tiny features.

I pictured running with you, your laughter filling the air and echoing through the trees.

I scanned every memory in my mind for moments that held you.

Not enough moments I thought.

Oh dear God not enough.

Not enough.

I sat in silence for what felt like an eternity, and I thought about only you.

I thought about all of the things you had experienced in this life,

and all of the things you never would.

I allowed my mind to create images of every milestone in your life that would never come to be.

I played them over and over, again and again until I felt my soul ache, begging me to stop.

I wondered what the other side of this life held.

The most curious of questions and the answer now belonged to you.

I felt fearful at the thought that someday the answer would belong to me too.

I tend my garden from dawn to dusk, perfectly placed flowers in perfectly spaced rows. Dahlias, Daylilies and New England Asters. The fragrant blooms flourish in the rich soil. Not a stem out of place, not a weed to be found.

I care for my plants, I nurture them like a mother to her child. I whisper life into them, gently stroking their delicate petals, taking great care as I bring my nose to them and inhale their intoxicating aroma.

The key to a successful garden is healthy soil, you see. I have tried a variety of methods to perfect my soil. Spent countless hours conducting my research. You really never can do enough research when it comes to something like gardening.

I spend hours upon hours every single day in my beautiful little garden. It brings me great joy as I watch it grow. I feel practically elated with each new bloom that sprouts. Tending the soil is perhaps my favorite task. Occasionally my trowel will snag a finger, or a toe. I just ever so carefully tuck those right back into the earth and continue my work. There is always so much to be done.

The key to a successful garden is the soil, you see.

I sit with my back pressed against the cold stone, my bare feet digging into the damp grass below. I slide my palms over my knees and notice that my fingers are trembling. How long have I been here? How did I come to be in this place? I look around for anything familiar, but see nothing that I recognize. I lift my eyes toward the sky, the clouds are breaking and I can see the sun. The sounds around me are muffled, I can faintly hear birds in the distance. My throat begins to tighten with fear, I don’t think that I am suppose to be here.

I close my eyes and lean my head against the stone, trying to recall how I got here. Nothing. I look down at my lap and see that my hands are no longer trembling, they’re tightly gripping the dress that I am wearing. I do not recognize this dress. I lift the fabric and run my fingers along the soft cotton. I take a deep breath and again try to recall anything I can about what brought me here. I can feel the tears escaping my eyes, I try quickly to blink them away but they fall silently onto the pale yellow dress that I am wearing.

As the sky begins to darken, I lift myself from the ground and brush the dirt from my dress. I glance one final time at the polished stone behind me before I go. My name glares back at me. The name I had written all of my life suddenly looks unfamilar etched into the gray granite headstone.