This year is the first time I’ve planted zucchini and harvesting many large veggies from one seed has been hugely rewarding. It’s fun to look at the big, green vegetable on my counter and know that I am seeing the combined result of the seed I planted in June, the soil and compost, the sun and rain, the mind-blowing process of photosynthesis that I don’t pretend to understand - all of this is present in this zucchini, which will eventually be in my body.
It’s a helpful reminder that when I look at a person, I am also seeing their parents, friends, mentors, achievements, wounds, gifts, short-comings, choices, and on and on. It’s easy to believe that my self-identity is all about me, but we are each made up of all the people and experiences of our lives.
The knowledge that people live on in the lives of their loved ones is a thin bandage of comfort for the pain of grief, but it is also a deep and rich truth. The zucchini will become soup that I will eat, and the nutrients will help feed new cells in my body. It will literally become a part of me. I’m not sure it will ease the pain of losing Mom, but trusting that she is a part of me and has nourished so many lives helps me trust that hers has been a life well lived.
Yes, I’ve been reading Buddhist wisdom - again from Joan Halifax’s Being With Dying. In other updates, Mom’s body and breathing weaken in gradual increments. Her spirits remain positive and quality of life is still good, with no idea how much time we have left. I’m finishing round six of chemo, still with minimal side-effects and two more rounds to go. There have been ups and downs in the last month - the downs including sporadic doses of exhaustion, loneliness, mental fog and emotional soup. I just came back from days in Vancouver which was a smorgasbord of love, so I’m back to delighting in the joy and privilege of this time.
And so far the zucchini have been transformed into soup, lasagna, and brownies. All from one seed!
