Last night I dreamt of my grandfather. He was a gardener, he knew plants in the woods. He walked for pleasure. All these things that I am, too.
The dream is fuzzy, but this is how I think it went…
I took his head in my hands and said, “I hardly knew you,” and behind that was the meaning… “I think of you all the time when I am in the garden. We share so many loves. I have this piece of you in me and I hardly interacted with you. Grandmom engaged us. You were there and I know you loved us. But it was all surface stuff. You were remote.”
There is a deep sadness for me in all of that.
And the only thing I remember him saying to me was “pay attention to the plants,” and behind that was this deeper meaning of caring about all plants. Don’t forget that they each are the miracle of life. Yanking up a “weed,” which I did plenty of this weekend, is destroying a life. Don’t do it so casually.
A message from beyond. Brought to me by my grandfather.
Sent from my iPad