Unsolicited Testimony

I have talked about my mental health fairly openly. I’ve always struggled with some level of anxiety, though nothing significant or life-altering.

2023 was one of the worst years of my life. I had many people die back-to-back within three or four months. Maybe I will share in another post.

After my aunt passed away in September 2023, sitting there holding my mom’s hand while she made the most horrible, life-ending decisions, I realized the power I had to just be there — to create the space she needed. Only weeks after saying goodbye to her dad, to her brother-in-law, she was saying goodbye to the last person she had known her entire life.

I felt that pain in my mom’s eyes. And the powerlessness that comes with it.

It’s been years, but the ugly past returns in ways you never really expect. And sometimes, it isn’t even ugly.

We decided to have a landscaper come and give me a head start in the yard. I used to love planting flowers, peppers, and herbs. Since 2023, I haven’t been able to return to the garden, and it has overgrown. I think he felt bad for me, so he hired some help.

All night, I was worried. I couldn’t sleep. Something about this event, something that doesn’t seem like a big deal, is a big deal to me. The little act of him calling, making a plan to get me some help, letting me choose the flowers I want, and turning it into a space I love again. It feels like a giant step back to who I was before.

Even though I know I am not the same person I was before the summer of 2023.

Strangely, I was most worried about the gardenias. My grandmother loved plants. She always had flowers to care for, even in her final days. My mom is the same; always tending her little garden, watering and caring for all the living things.

I’ve loved gardening, but I’ve never been the best at it. I’ve watched a lot of plants die at the hands of my brown thumb, including a beloved peach tree. I always figured I would learn one day. One day, I will be as good as my mom and my grandma. My mom always told me how my grandmother always had gardenias.

But the gardenias — they persist. They are blooming beautifully, and they smell wonderful. They return after each freeze. They survive the Texas heat. And when the landscapers were walking around reviewing the plans, I pleaded:

Please keep the gardenias.

Please, just keep the gardenias.