The Backyard He Built
The Backyard He Built: On Avoided Places, Seven Years Later
My husband Tom loved yard work. Not in the mow-the-lawn-on-Saturday way. He made it a work of art. Bridges. Paths that wound under the trees. A waterfall. Koi. Unusual plants he researched and planted himself. A lawn pristine enough to photograph.
After he died, I stopped going back there.
It wasn't a decision. It was quieter than that, like a door I stopped opening without ever choosing to keep it shut. That backyard held so much of Tom (his hands, his ideas, his patience) that walking into it felt like walking into the middle of him.
When some trees started struggling, I hired a tree and lawn company to consult, and I finally walked back out. The koi were dead. The beds were overgrown. The lawn was patchy and bare. I was leveled, right there in front of the representative.
In Episode 12 of Mosaic: Beauty in Every Broken Piece, I tell that story. I also tell you the part I didn't expect to say out loud: seven years later, the backyard is still somewhat a mess.
When I get out there for a fire pit, I can enjoy it. I really can. And it still hurts. I miss Tom making it beautiful and noticing what needed to be done long before I would. I miss him nudging me outside, even just to sit and read while he worked or played with the kids. I miss him challenging me to build a patio, getting the project started, and doing it together.
For a long time I thought that seven years out, a place like that should be "dealt with" by now. I don't believe that anymore. Some places need more time, and that's okay. Healing that takes years is still healing. And I don't want to leave it. That yard is still where he loved us with his own two hands.
If you have a place like this (a workshop, a garden, an office, his side of the garage), here are a few small steps from the episode:
Take one step toward the space. Open the door. Stand at the window with your coffee. That counts.
Pick one thing, not the whole thing. One flower bed. One tree. One drawer of his workbench.
Add something that's yours. A wind chime, a chair, a pot of flowers. Something that says I'm here too.
Give yourself a reason to go out. A fire pit. A book. Morning coffee.
Bring someone with you. You don't have to go alone.
Pray there. Lord, this was his. Help me love it again.
Let one step be enough for now. There's no deadline.
You don't have to fix it all. You don't have to do it on anyone else's timeline. But beauty does come back. Maybe not the way it was, and maybe not all at once, but it comes.
https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/the-backyard-he-built/id6784076332?i=1000792308065
