I am both comforted and assailed b y new waves of grief, when following the rhythms you taught me. My hands warming the cool dirt Grit working under my nails Seeds pressed into their hopeful beginings And I wish I could call you Share my joy of spring Joy you danced to The only dance you knew The dance of the garden Of growth and renewal It seems cruel The season of new life Being my greatest reminder of you. Now you are dead Burried beneath The soil you loved Daffodils and crocus Dancing above. “Why are you crying?” My littlest has found me crying in our garden. Because gardening reminds me of Grandma. “Why do you do it? If it makes you sad?” Because she loved it. And I like it. I like to grow yummy food And plant in the dirt with my babies. Because it reminds me of you. And how you taught me To grow in the dirt And how healing each plot “The garden is my therapy” You often remarked....