Mowing the Grass

Today, I decided to mow the grass. Yes….you heard me I decided to mow the grass. Let’s see I haven’t mowed the grass for 8 years. I told my daughter. She laughed at me. But Natalie and Caleb quickly found a spot outside to watch me. I had an audience! I wasn’t sure if I could start the lawn mower.

I pulled the handle. Nothing. I pulled the handle again. Power! I am mowing the grass. Here I go. Yes Mr. Neighbor over there with your fancy John Deere riding mower looking at me. I have a push mower and with my weak arms I can push it. I have never been to lawn mower school. I am not sure how this should be done. But I like little squares. I start cutting in squares. I can see my accomplishment as I finish the squares. Oh, wait I missed a spot. Oh and one there. Forget the squares I will go whichever way I want. I am trying to live today. I can actually feel my heart beating. I am alive.

Sure, as I girl I am sure there are other more creative ways to get my heart pumping. Black Friday shopping does come to mind. Maybe online shopping where if you don’t hit the “buy it now” button quickly and head to paypal immediately the item will jump form your cart. Haven’t tried that? You really should some time. I promise your heart will be pounding. Maybe I should go to the spa. I may not get my heart racing but I certainly could work up a sweat in the sauna. And besides I could leave with really pretty toes.

No, today I am choosing to mow the lawn. I am desperate. My heart is racing not because the love of my life is going to be so thrilled. You better be honey!! But as I cut the grass I am trying another way to let go of this grief. I am trying to give it a trim anyway. I am really pushing this lawn mower hard so it will cut away what is on the inside. As I sweat I imagine my body riding of itself of uncried tears. I smell the sweat. It doesn’t smell like grief. The smell of grief is cruel. It smells so sweet…like the sweetness of newborn skin. You take just a small sniff and instead of joy it brings you to tears.

Look at the yard. It is starting to look better. I am on a mission. Come on lawn mower don’t fail me now. Please don’t run out of gas or fill up your bag thingy. I don’t really want to fill up the gas or empty the mulch. I just want to mow. I fill like I should name this new friend of mine….the lawnmower. Allison where are you when I need you girl? I need a girl’s name for this lawnmower. It has to be a girl. Why else would men agree to spend hours every summer mowing the grass. I am getting strange ideas like asking my husband to buy me a lawnmower and we can mow the grass together. Never mind, I can think of 150 other things I much rather he buy me….flowers and diamonds come to mind for starters. 

I am working on the next square. I am seeing progress. I hope I don’t run out of gas now. I want the lawn to look all neat. I want to be proud of my finished product . Vicki you are right. I was wrong. It is not just about the process. I do want to see the finished product. I wonder what I am going to look like when I get through this process of grief. I know I can never look the same again. I hope I am proud of the finished product. I hope my husband and children are proud too. I mow more fiercely. I push the lawnmower with more umph. I feel my hands starting to shake because my grip is so tight. I cut the grass with purpose. I am cutting away the pain.

Ok, you silly lawn mower. I accomplished it. I let go of some pain. I have cut the grass in the front yard. Now run out of gas. Please. RUN OUT OF GAS!!! I let go of the handle. The mower stops. It is quiet again. Natalie and Caleb cheer for me. I see she even posted cheers for me on FB. That is a teenager’s way of saying….“hey, you are a cool mom.” 

　
Am I a cool mom?  Are you laughing with me now?  I am intending for this post to be a little bit funny. I feel so incredibly sad on the inside. I miss Seth so much. I try sharing this but I get looks of concern and sounds of sympathy. Don’t get me wrong I appreciate them. I really do. But I have in my crazy mind that maybe just maybe if I can really get you laughing….I mean laughing hard from deep down inside you then you will get it. You will get an idea of just how deep this pain is….how hard it hurts.  And if I made you chuckle even a little let me know. I need to hear from people right now. I need to be reminded over and over again that I will survive. It is ok if you don’t know how to tell me to do it. Just tell me I will survive. Believe it with me.