nils blondon(he/him) //
fall 2025

i started gardening following the overdose death of my best friend.


his death was but one of the many i’d experienced in a short window. the most devastating of which was the overdose death of my little brother.


my best friend, issac, and my little brother, phillip, had many commonalities. following my little brother’s death, isaac, who was younger than me, vulnerable, and endearingly naïve in the way the kindest of us often are, became something of a sibling to me.


i viewed their deaths as a personal failing. a symptom of love’s weakness. its inability to protect.


i purchased a plant not long after isaac’s service. i dedicated that plant to him and my brother, planting it in a ceramic pot on my veranda. the circumstances of my life had thrust me, unwittingly, into the recognition of the fragile and feckless nature of my love. love comes at a great personal cost. to love is to lose and to lose is to grieve. death is inescapable and unknown. but as i watched my fledgling garden grow, morph, and give life, i realized my nurturance is not without reward.


my garden symbolizes the endurance of love. in the garden i locate the truths of my body. the body is a vessel. the result of the slow, consistent nurturing of a seed. it lives, dies, and is returned to the earth. for a time, it produces life-sustaining fruits – flowers, vegetables, and herbs - before withering, falling, and resting in the soil. my body, my vessel, is alive and it will die. but the spirit it contains, the quiet pulse in the inanimate, holds the potential for many rebirths.


this vessel contains flowers from my garden, presented at various stages in their lifecycle. some have gone to seeds, which can be found inside the folds of phillip’s scarf. i invite you to take them and plant them when ready. i cut flowers daily and placed them in the vessel, feeding it intentionally as i would my own body. the vessel is finite. the flowers, husks, seeds – their experience of life and death – can not be contained within its dimensions. the spirit longs for release like the flowers in the vessel. spilling out in the shape of laughter or tears, grief and joy. our flower blooms and dies away in silence.


the attached poem honours the interplay of life and death. it is a “found poem”. a reconstitution of my words from phillip and isaac’s obituaries.


i found deep value and meaning in this process.


i hope what i’ve shared enables moments of softness.


nils



nils blondon(he/him) //
fall 2025

i started gardening following the overdose death of my best friend.


his death was but one of the many i’d experienced in a short window. the most devastating of which was the overdose death of my little brother.


my best friend, issac, and my little brother, phillip, had many commonalities. following my little brother’s death, isaac, who was younger than me, vulnerable, and endearingly naïve in the way the kindest of us often are, became something of a sibling to me.


i viewed their deaths as a personal failing. a symptom of love’s weakness. its inability to protect.


i purchased a plant not long after isaac’s service. i dedicated that plant to him and my brother, planting it in a ceramic pot on my veranda. the circumstances of my life had thrust me, unwittingly, into the recognition of the fragile and feckless nature of my love. love comes at a great personal cost. to love is to lose and to lose is to grieve. death is inescapable and unknown. but as i watched my fledgling garden grow, morph, and give life, i realized my nurturance is not without reward.


my garden symbolizes the endurance of love. in the garden i locate the truths of my body. the body is a vessel. the result of the slow, consistent nurturing of a seed. it lives, dies, and is returned to the earth. for a time, it produces life-sustaining fruits – flowers, vegetables, and herbs - before withering, falling, and resting in the soil. my body, my vessel, is alive and it will die. but the spirit it contains, the quiet pulse in the inanimate, holds the potential for many rebirths.


this vessel contains flowers from my garden, presented at various stages in their lifecycle. some have gone to seeds, which can be found inside the folds of phillip’s scarf. i invite you to take them and plant them when ready. i cut flowers daily and placed them in the vessel, feeding it intentionally as i would my own body. the vessel is finite. the flowers, husks, seeds – their experience of life and death – can not be contained within its dimensions. the spirit longs for release like the flowers in the vessel. spilling out in the shape of laughter or tears, grief and joy. our flower blooms and dies away in silence.


the attached poem honours the interplay of life and death. it is a “found poem”. a reconstitution of my words from phillip and isaac’s obituaries.


i found deep value and meaning in this process.


i hope what i’ve shared enables moments of softness.


nils

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