Buds
The word “buds” is a deceptively loaded one. It’s short, but it can be useful in making sense of some of life’s realities and vicissitudes.
I’ve written here many times before about the activity of gardening’s usefulness as a backdrop for many seemingly unrelated topics. Gardening, and the vast repository of subject matter that exists under its expansive aegis, have served me well here collectively as a unifying agent for all of the topics featured on this site, and as a convenient foil for my own (admittedly exaggerated) gardening ineptitude. And once again, right here and now, the backdrop of gardening’s appreciable topical applicability will come to my assistance. Specifically, I’m going to call upon what may be gardening’s most representative and fundamental element – the flower bud – to help me get my heart and mind around what, for me, has proven to be unfathomable loss.
During the week of May 14th, this year, I lost what remained of my entire family. My soulmate and life partner, Dee Dee, passed away unexpectedly on Monday, May 15th, and my beloved dog, Tony, also passed away unexpectedly – on May 18th, the Thursday of that same week. I’m now our home’s sole occupant. On August 4th of 2022, I suffered the first of what would become a string of excruciating losses when my little dog Clarabelle passed away. The second blow was struck on December 30th of 2022. I lost my mother to cancer that day. These inconceivable tragedies have taken their toll. My grief is unrelatable, and my loneliness is exquisite.
In the face of my sadness and desolation, my responsibilities to our home and our land persist. I keep the house inhabitable, and I make sure it’s remained at least somewhat presentable to those incredibly kind souls who’ve visited, and to those who most certainly will. And I tend our garden.
In the garden at this particular time of year, all of life’s miraculous sights, sounds, and smells are ubiquitous. Birds sing, frogs and toads croak, butterflies and bees dance, green sprouts emerge, leaves unfurl, and flower buds demurely hint of imminent glories.
The flower buds arrest me; they make me almost stagger.
In the wake of my loss, and in the void of my grief, my consideration of the flower buds leads me along previously unexplored avenues of thought. There are inescapable parallels here. My loss, and its implications – its particulars – find analogy among the buds. The word “buds,” and the little green-swaddled promises to which it alludes, allow me to arrive at important realizations. Flower buds and the lives and loss of my loved ones; flower buds and my life. The parallels – the connections – are evident. And in my garden, in the company of the flower buds, they are all around me.
In the cold of winter, all of the plants in my garden are dormant. Whether evergreen, deciduous, or herbaceous, my garden’s plants are gone during this wicked season. When spring returns, and with it sunny skies and warm weather, the plants in my garden also come back. Life for these plants, as it existed before winter’s death knell, resumes. It continues. The little flower buds, which appear throughout the spring at various times and in varying form and number, are the culmination of life’s continuation in my garden. In spite of my own collective loss, and my unshakable conviction that life will never again be beautiful, will never again be the same, I know that it will continue. The flower buds, without fail, shyly disclose the news of life’s tireless, timeless, and ceaseless march. And I, in the void of my loss, am particularly poised to pay close attention to their susurrations. Life will indeed go on. I know this as surely as I love and miss my absent family; the buds are my living proof.
The lives of my departed loved ones are, to me, like the flower buds. My relationship with each of them and the unfulfilled promises of sunny days and cold winter nights, all of the unrealized laughter and tears and joy and pain – all of the life I’ll not spend with them – finds representation in the form of a swelling-yet-discreet flower bud. How would our lives together have unfurled? What would the dawning of a thousand more new days have held in store for my loved ones and me? Five-thousand more days? Ten-thousand? Ten? The quiet little shrouded flower bud holds, for me, the promise and mystery of days on this Earth that I’ll never spend with those I’ve lost.
And the flower bud exists as a promise that a certain life will soon be revealed in its maximal beauty and glory. The bloom that ultimately emerges from the cloistering bud and reveals itself to me in my garden serves as an example of a little life that’s been well-lived. That life – that of the plant, beaming in good health and happiness – offers the opened bud, the flower, as testament to its vitality. My lost loved ones, I believe, do not wish for my own end, here. How could they ever hope for me to wither away? On the contrary, I think they wish for me to not merely survive, but to flower in my own right. I believe that their wish for me includes my triumph over sadness, and a life of eventual happiness. It seems to me that such a wish would undoubtedly embody the essence of the true and matchless familial love with which I’ve been blessed and most privileged to have experienced.
So, the flower buds surround me in the garden that once belonged to Dee Dee and Tony and Clarabelle and me, and they convey to me their secrets. Those buds silently, but emphatically, assure me that life continues, and that there is more to come They whisper to me the unwritten story of a future here with my family that I’ll never spend. And they remind me that, in spite of my grief, I myself should also strive to blossom. This last is particularly important, as it’s dictated by history. My family – my loved ones who’ve now gone – expect a flowering from me. They loved me, after all. In fact, they still do.
And they always will.
John G. Stamos, May, 2023
I’ve included a photo collage below of my Dee Dee, my mom, and my pups, Tony and Clarabelle. Their beauty is always in my mind’s eye, and they remain forever in my heart. I’m proud of them, and of the life I’ve spent with them. I thought that these photos were fitting. Thank you for indulging me.
Below, you’ll find one last photo collage… irises, which Dee Dee planted over twenty years ago, in the form of both bud and flower.
Dear readers and subscribers, thank you for reading this short piece. Its publication here marks not only my return to The Renaissance Garden Guy, but hopefully also a return to a regular publishing schedule. The path I currently walk is a winding one, and I’m learning that it’s not always clearly marked. I’ll do my best to return to form, but I can’t promise that there won’t be a stumble or two along the way. I thank you in advance for your understanding, and, as always, I’m grateful for your kind interest and readership.
Cheers, and Happy Gardening!
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{{{{{{{{{{{{{[hugs}}}}}}}}}}}}} and prayers for you dear John. I had wondered what had happened to you. Please try to take time for yourself. This last month has been hard on me also. I lost two dear long time friends in late April. The older we get it seems our circle of friends and loved ones gets smaller and smaller.
Gardens are healing.
Blessings,
A
Bless your kind heart, dear Annie. Thank you so very much. And please accept my condolences for your own losses. I’m so very sorry. Thank you again for your lovely thoughts and words, and for your kindness. I am truly grateful.
All here is life. Your life has been blessed. More blessings will come. Loving your words and memories.
You are so incredibly kind, Everly. Your words are beautiful and the sentiment behind them is truly and dearly appreciated. I thank you from the bottom of my heart.
So very poignant and beautiful! A sure sign of the love you shared is that you are able to reflect on beauty at this time and remain hopeful for a future.
Thank you so much, Cathy. I’m so very, very grateful for your kind thoughts and lovely words. I’m very glad that you are able to see my situation in this way. This is a great comfort to me. Thank you again, Cathy.
I pray you find ease of your pain.
With each flower that buds and blooms.
Love lives on in the garden you shared and in your heart and your being. We carry our loved ones with us in our hearts and our souls . You will continue to be in my daily prayers.
Bless you, dear Sharon. I cannot thank you enough for your beautiful words and your kindness and compassion. What you’ve written here is a great comfort to me. Thank you again, Sharon.
I have worked on restoring a property and its gardens for 10 years for 2 wonderful people and their dog, Parker. In October of ’21, we lost Parker, and in February of ’22, we lost Pam. The garden has provided the healing for her husband as well as for us, the gardeners. Parker and Pam are everywhere in the garden, as well as in our hearts.
These are the hardest of days, I hope the garden can offer you a path to heal. Very very sorry.
.
Thank you so very much, Barbara. I’m dearly grateful for your kind words and compassion, and I can entirely appreciate the emotions inherent in your story. Of course, I extend my sincerest sympathies to you, and to Pam and Parker’s husband and dad, for this tragic loss. I’m glad that the gardens provide such a wonderful, healing balm. Thank you once again, Barbara.
“BUDS… a promise that a certain life will soon be revealed in its maximal beauty and glory.”
How beautiful it sounds and how very true it is. I believe that everything happens for a reason and it is revealed to us! I am so happy to read your posts again,
I know how devastated and hurt you are, but the Angels you’ve lost, they are actually there with you, watching over you and wanting you to go on… your garden is Paradise in a small version, and in every bud, flower, and tree, the wind that blows, gently caressing your face, is a reminder that they are there, watching over you, kissing your face… try to find peace and happiness for them 🥲❤️❤️❤️🌹🌹🌹🙏🙏🙏
Oh, Roxxy, bless your kind heart. Your beautiful and kind thoughts and words are so comforting. Thank you so very, very much. I am dearly and truly forever grateful.
John, you have suffered a profound loss. The memories of your loved ones will always be with you. There will be a life ahead for you and you will find your way through these dark days. My thoughts and prayers are always with you.
Thank you so very much, Kevin. I am dearly grateful.
I am very pleased to read this very personal story of your recent losses. I am also pleased you realized your departed loved ones want you to flourish and succeed.
My deepest condolences.
Thank you so very much, Rick. I truly appreciate it.
Life does go on. If anything comes out of your terrible losses, may blessings arrive at your door everyday. That you are able to write about them shows great strength. Love you, John.
Thank you so very much, Everly. I cannot tell you enough how much I appreciate this.
My deep condolences for your losses. Hope your sorrow eases with time. I am sure your garden will help you cope some. Always here for you John if you need anything.
Take care of yourself,
Waz
Thank you so very much, Waz. I truly appreciate this, and I am very, very grateful. Again, thank you so much, Waz.
Dear John,
I’ve come across your page on twitter and loved it at first sight.
I’ve immediately subscribed to your newsletter and I love your blog so much.
Therefore, I’m so very happy to see you back for us all with your written gems, because that’s how I perceive your writings.
You’ve gone through so many losses and the pain must be excruciating. Yet, you are here, sharing with us your inner beauty and your life.
Your garden is lovely. Your words are chiseled and so poignant.
As a non English mother tongue I’m learning so much from your style and from the expressions you use. It’s a continuous enrichment for me, on all levels.
Therefore thank you for being back.
Big hug
Enrica Maria from Milan Italy
Bless your kind heart, my dear Enrica Maria. Your kind and beautiful thoughts and words do me great honor, and are a true comfort to me. I simply cannot thank you enough. I am dearly grateful.
I’m so sorry for your losses. Thank you so much for creating this beautiful essay out of your heartbreak. It seems to me that you’re reading the message of the buds well; your family would hope for you to flourish. I wish you peace and beauty as you move forward.
Thank you so very much, Mary. I am truly grateful your kindest thoughts and lovely words. They are a true comfort to me. Thank you again, Mary.
I love what you wrote. It is so true in so many ways. Your family does want you to flourish and find happiness. And that may well be the most difficult and important task that you have faced in your entire life. With the help of those of us who love you, I pray your struggle will ultimately be successful. Θεία Becky
Bless you, Thea Becky. Your kindness to me means everything, and your wise words and heartfelt deeds have always remained with me, and have made my life better in every conceivable way. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.
Your writing is beautiful John. Dee Dee and yourself bought a few of my paintings while they were hanging in Customs Imports. Dee Dee gave me a wonderful opportunity to show my art in her store. I was greatly saddened to hear the news of her passing. Keep writing. Your words are like paint brushes on canvas. I wish you well.
Sincerely, Nicole
Thank you so much, Nicole. Your lovely words and your compassion are truly appreciated. I remember you well. Dee Dee thought so highly of you, and I do, too. Your gorgeous paintings hang on the walls of our home. Your beautiful, gracious, and very talented spirit is evident in your amazing work. Once again, Nicole, I thank you so very kindly.
This is beautiful, John. So, so true.
Your garden is absolutely lovely. When I visited yesterday, I couldn’t help but FEEL that each and every one of those buds and blooms is bursting with hope and promise, all for you. I love you, Johnny. One day at a time. 💙
Bless you, my dear, dear sister. I can never thank you enough for your kindness and compassion. This is so very, very lovely. Thank you, Tina.
Lovely to see you John, appreciated your latest article on grief, loss, and love. Beautiful, touching photos of Dee Dee, Tony & Clarabelle. Touching, well written words about some losses we never “get over,” we rather assimilate the grief, loss, and love while holding onto the budding promise of new hope and new life. Your hopeful words bring comfort , thank you. Keeping you in prayer.
Jill
Thank you so very much, Jill. For your kind words and beautiful thoughts, and for everything you’ve done, I am forever grateful.