The Blooms That Broke Us (Tennessee Love Stories)

by Ashley Dill

Chaos had a way of finding me. If circumstances didn’t screw me over, I usually found a way to do it myself.

Self-inflicted suffering has always been my preferred mode of delivery. When you are the bonehead causing problems in the first place, it’s easier to swallow. You grit your teeth and handle the consequences. But when other people cause the suffering? The result is an onion. There are layers to process. The whys, the grief, the betrayal. And after you’ve gone through every layer, the sting lasts a long time.

I didn’t have mental clarity around Chris. It’s hard to see things as they are when you’re around someone who weaves his own version of reality.

The only way I’d been able to deescalate the situation was to apologize. Tell him I was wrong, reassure him of my love, and thank him for taking care of me. To snuggle into bed with him. To let him hold me. To stroke his wounds.

Our relationship took fire before it even had the chance to bloom.

“First gardening lesson is this—most gardens don’t do real well.” “How come?” “Because folks are so excited about gettin’ a harvest, they don’t take time to work on the foundation.” “The soil.” He nodded. “That’s right. It’s the most important part of your garden. If your soil’s depleted or infested, the harvest will suffer until it eventually dies off completely. Lots of people stick seeds or transplants right into a foundation that’s far from ready and wonder why things didn’t pan out.”

“Death makes the soil stronger in the long run,” he explained. “Without some dyin’ now and then, the soil will deplete. You can always dump in some manufactured chemicals to give it a boost, but nothing strengthens the foundation like a good dose of dead plants. Brings about new life.”

“The first occupation granted to humans was gardening,”

If I was a schedule, she was the freedom. The whimsical to my practical. And the heart for my brain. Everything I wasn’t. Everything I wanted.

This is another round of that game we used to play in our marriage. Where I have to read your mind and automatically know exactly what you’re thinking, what you’re feeling, and have the perfect response in all situations in order to keep you happy.”

This was why our marriage had died. When things got too tough for him to handle, he left. He disappeared and hoped the problems would too.

“Have you ever felt so lost you wanted to give up?” He clicked his tongue. “Many times. Many times.” “What did you do?” “The next right thing.”

This was Jack. Who he was. How he responded. It was why we were broken beyond repair. Because Jack wouldn’t ever stick around for the repair part. Something about brokenness scared the heck out of him. He wouldn’t face it like a man. Never had. And I knew this about him.

The only way we had been able to somewhat hold our marriage together was to pretend to be okay. Jack couldn’t handle my pain, so I said I was fine. And so did he.

I’d never tried to hide my feelings, only keep them held back so I didn’t scare her away. Every day was proving harder.

Togetherness is the only thing I’ve ever truly wanted. Sometimes, I felt a little self-conscious about the fact I didn’t have big goals or dreams. I considered myself a little vanilla. Sweet but boring. My version of fun was curling up and reading a book, doing a craft, or making dinner together. My goal in life was having a happy family—it’s the one thing I’ve wanted and the one thing I’ve never ever had.

“The world is a crazy place. But a tended garden is a place of peace.”

People chronically tossed my feelings aside. I was only ever treasured in fair weather. No one stayed with me on my hard days or cared to hear my heart when it was broken.

There is nothing I want more than to just have a family, hang out, and be together. I’m literally the most boring person on planet earth…every

I have stuffed my emotions my entire life so people would like me. So they’d stay.

“Sometimes what folks allow you to see isn’t an accurate reflection of who they really are.”

“I’d rather be anywhere but home, hearing her cry, watching her heart break and feeling helpless to do anything.

just because you know all the clues doesn’t mean you’ve solved the mystery. There’s a difference between know and understand.”

Trauma doesn’t always make sense from the outside. It literally alters your brain chemistry.

“Maybe I’m weird, but I think it’s an honor we get to help each other heal. I have their hearts in my hands and I don’t take that lightly. It makes life a lot more painful and a lot more complicated, but they’re worth it.

there might be stuff you need to work out too. Sometimes we aren’t what we need to be for other people because we aren’t what we need to be for ourselves. Can’t help somebody else while you’re bleeding out, ya know?”

I don’t love you enough, Miranda. I still love myself more, which is why I do dumb stuff like walk away when you need me. Because that protects me from things I don’t like facing.”

Being welcomed in, invited, wanted. It was a feeling I rarely experienced, but craved. Its absence was a chasm in my spirit. Every decision I made in my life backfired, pouring salt into the wound. Into the emptiness I always carried.

“Look at your garden.” I did. Thankful for a chance to turn my face away. “You’re doing a fine job keeping it up. You’re doing all the things most folks don’t like to do. Keeping an eye out for problems, pests, being patient, trouble-shooting. You’re protecting your harvest before harvest time even comes.”

Folks these days want immediate reward and most things in life don’t work that way. Especially relationships.”

“I know things were tough, and I ain’t discounting tough. Lord knows grief’s a marriage killer.

We were polar ends of a magnet. Pulled together despite feeble attempts at dumb boundaries.

She didn’t have a place. A belonging growing up. She was stuck between so many different people and realities. That knowledge hit me for the first time ever. Is that why she was so obsessed with togetherness? With making a home and having a family? Not sure how I’d never put two and two together.

“I do love him. But love isn’t enough to save a marriage.”

“No, Jack and I have always loved each other. But, at the end of the day, it’s not enough. We need something we don’t have. Something we weren’t able to give each other.”

“Those plants are at the brink of harvesting time, ain’t they?” I nodded. “It’d be a real shame if you plucked ’em out.”

“They’ve survived the most vulnerable, tender phases and lived to tell the tale. The harvest is gonna be just fine. It’d be downright silly if you pulled them up today and threw them in the weed pile because you thought they were useless. They’re alive and well. What they need is maturity.” “Richard, just tell me what you mean.” He rolled his eyes. “Your love is immature, Miranda.”

“Some folks think you either got love, or you don’t. Rose and I found it ain’t that simple. Love grows. Love strengthens like a muscle. You give some then give more over time. It ain’t just a feeling. It’s a skill.” “A skill?” I had never heard it called that before. “Love is something you practice, child. Something you break your back working for. Leaving will break you. But so will loving. It will hurt you to love patiently. To forgive over and over. To sacrifice.” A slow smile spread over his face. “But it’d be a crying shame to miss out on the harvest.

Something new stirred within me. Something warm and fresh. Maybe hope. I asked slowly, unsteady. “I want to try. Where would I even start?” “Forgiveness. True love doesn’t keep records.”

“Well, the way I see it, you can sit around, watch your life and opportunities pass you by, waiting for the man you love to say a few magic words…or you can just forgive him. You don’t need to be invited. Forgiveness happens in the heart whether someone even realizes they need to be forgiven.” “Does forgiveness mean I have to forget everything that happened between us?” “Not at all. Just means you stop punishing him for it. Stop letting your heart hold on.”

“My heart wants him to beg me for forgiveness. Does that make me a horrible human?” “Not a horrible human. Just human.” He shook his head. “You just need some rewiring. If you want relationships in your life to thrive, you got to operate for their good, not your own.” “That’s exactly the opposite of everything people say.” “Yep. And it’s the reason sixty-plus year marriages will die with my generation. Forgiveness, love, commitment—they’re all sacrifices. Painful ones sometimes. Folks don’t like pain.”

I did not like pain. And I have been through so much. That was the hang-up for me. Fear of more pain. But Richard was definitely right. Leaving now, walking away from Jack right now, would hurt too.

“How will I know if I’ve truly forgiven Jack? I want to.” “It’s a good question.” He clicked his tongue a couple times, thinking. “I reckon you’ll know when you’re more concerned about whether you’re loving him rightly than whether he’s loving you rightly. You’ll know when you stop wishing he’d make it up to you.”

Had I unintentionally punished Jack for not being what I needed? Is that why I didn’t tell him about the babies? I mean, yes, it was because it was painful. But I also felt like he didn’t deserve to know. A sob pressed into my throat and I swallowed it down with a muted squeak. “I need his—his forgiveness too.” “Then lead.” “Lea...

Growth happens one day at a time.

“I’m so selfish, Richard.” “Well, news flash. You ain’t going to stop being selfish. Just got to learn to recognize it and nip it straight in the bud.”

“Does marriage—loving someone—ever get easier?” He thought for a moment, pursing his lips. “I would say there are easier seasons, but overall, no. Take it from someone who was married a long time. Love ain’t romance. It’s grit.”

A few weeks ago, he’d said, “I don’t love you enough.” He understood it was a muscle. That love would start imperfect and strengthen over time.

The one thing I had always wanted since I was a child—a place to belong and be loved and accepted through the worst days—was something I wasn’t willing to provide for Jack. I only wanted it for myself. I left our marriage when it was difficult.

We all had the same problem. No one wanted to do the hard things. No one stayed through the fire.