Wishing Well

Half way through our time in New Zealand, I found myself alone with the kids walking through the castle gardens in Dunedin. It was a chilly day, but the view of the bay and the striking colors of spring were keeping my kids engaged. As we rounded a switchback up the hill, Elie asked, "Daniel, what would you do if Benjamin was with us right now?"

Benjamin is Jason and I's first son who passed away over 7 years ago. Elie was 18 months old, but his story has been written into hers. She's always the first to bring up his name.

"I don't know", said Daniel. "I'd probably jump off these rocks with him!" Then he scrambled up the rock steps along the path and took a flying leap off. I was quick enough to catch the moment on camera even though I knew my heart would need time to process it.

Elie then took a pebble over to a well labeled "wishing well" and dropped it in. "This is for Benjamin."

Nearly two weeks later, and hundreds of miles up the road, we visited the Hamilton Gardens. As we weaved through each immaculately prepared space we ooo-ed and awed at the variety of flowers and plants. We also labored (with great effort) to find the answer to all the questions on the Junior Ranger program. One assignment read, "Find a quiet space to sit. Take in the scene around you. If you could chose any person to sit here with you who would it be?"

"Benjamin", replied Elie.

Two gardens. Two beautiful spaces. And the longing of her heart is for her brother, a brother who passed so long ago that she has no natural recollection of him. I love that and it also terrifies me. Her longing is deep and also divine.

As I type this I'm chuckling to myself over the picture of Daniel leaping off the rocks. It's the same position I displayed when I leaped off the Sky Tower in Auckland earlier this week.

"I would jump off these rocks with him!" With one leap Daniel grabbed hold of a loss in one hand and a desire in the other. And he jumped.

He would.

And he did.

Obviously he wasn't thinking deeply at that moment. He was just doing what came naturally. What came naturally was beautiful. As beautiful as sitting alone in a Tudor garden wishing your little brother could sit by your side.

To have and to hold

To leap and to sit

Allowing beauty to stir

the most intimate gift

Loss and love

grief and joy

A wishing well

Uncapped, untethered