Me Versus The Lawn Mower

In 31 years of life, I have never lived alone. Until now. Maybe this is not much of an accomplishment to some people, but it is to me. Especially after what I’ve lived through.

When Shawn first passed away, my mom had to literally place food in front of me to eat. She did my laundry. Slept near me. Drove me where I needed to be. She placed post-its filled with love all around the house while I barely left what is now considered “my spot” on the couch. I was completely dependent. My mom kept me alive. (Thank you, thank you, thank you, Mom. I love you always!)

So while I still cry weekly and have the occasional life isn’t fair-temper tantrum, I also have realized I’ve made tremendous progress, too.

I work, pay my bills, cook (finally!), clean (umm, sometimes), take care of Gracie, and do my laundry. But the one job that makes me feel really strong and independent is cutting the grass

…except when my lawn mower doesn’t work!

The other day I was cutting the grass when the lawn mower gave out on me. I could not get it to start again. The job that typically made me feel strong and independent, was now making me feel weak and alone. I checked the gas. Nope, not the problem. I checked the oil. Looked fine to me. I flipped the lawn mower over and, sure enough, it was full of grass. I briefly recalled my dad saying, “Lindsay, don’t let the grass get too long before you cut it.” Whoops. I also remember him telling me to use some sort of scraping thing (technical term) to clean it out. I did not have that, so I used my hand. (Dad, are you cringing?) After all my cleaning, I could still not get it to start. Feeling sweaty and defeated, I decided to take a break from the lawn mower.

After gathering up my strength, I walked back out to the lawn mower and tried again. It took me three attempts, but finally it started. Victory was mine! (Is this a little over-dramatic for a lawn mowing tale?) I pridefully finished mowing my lawn.

As silly as this story may seem, it reminded me a lot of my grief. I continually face challenges and obstacles. I attempt to use tools and advice to solve them. But some days, no matter what I do, I just fall down. I break.

I then rest. Build up my strength. And give life another shot.

I don’t give up. I won’t give up.

«Well…my life has officially come down to lawn mowing metaphors. I may be an adult.»

8 thoughts on “Me Versus The Lawn Mower

  1. Cindy says:

    It is the little victories that make life so sweet! Love the story and I love that you are willing to share your journey. Keep smiling and loving…..and mowing! ❤


  2. Gail Gonwa says:

    While reading your new post aloud to Dad on our way home from up north (sobbing between the words – you’ve given me way too much credit – all of your dear family and closest friends were involved in keeping you alive), he immediately had to stop at the closest Menard’s to buy you a putty knife (technical term for scraping thing). I hope you found it in your front door along with a treat – Dad’s idea! We love you lots and always will ❤ mOm


    • mysavinggracie says:

      It definitely was a team effort. That’s for sure! I never use my front door, so just found my putty knife and twizzlers! Thank you, Dad!!! That putty knife looks like it will be more efficient than my hand. Ha! 🙂 Love you both!


  3. Allan & Jane Lorge says:

    What a great story; love the can-do attitude to never give up thinking (with the lawn mower and whatever life throws your way) and the last line made us laugh out loud…..thanks so much for sharing this and all your posts; makes us older adults so very proud!!


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