Flowers For You, Grandmother
Three years ago today, I lost my favorite person.
I can’t quite articulate how I’m feeling today. It’s a weird mix of the stages of grief, with a hit of sadness, a load of nostalgia, and one dash of emptiness. Recently, with the passing of my Great-Grandmother (her mother), I’ve been wrestling with the mortality of myself and my loved ones. You truly can be here today, gone tomorrow. Whether you’re 2, 52, or 92.
One thing that brings me comfort, at times, is knowing that I gave her her flowers both literally and figuratively while she was still here. Weeks before she passed, when it was evident that she didn’t have much longer, I asked if she wanted me to come visit. I can’t remember her exact words but they were somewhere along the lines of assuring me that she knew I loved her, and that she’s okay with me not coming to say “formal goodbyes”. In that moment I had peace about not going to see her and I selfishly didn’t want to. I think seeing her in the physical state that she was in before she passed would have broken me in a way I wouldn’t have been able to handle.
Yesterday I thought about flowers ALL day. I used to hate flowers, but lately I’ve been obsessed with them and I have no clue where this sudden fascination came from. I always thought they smelled funny, died quickly, cost too much, and hated that they made me sneeze and itch. I now enjoy seeing them, smelling them, receiving them, and even wearing them. I’ve come to appreciate them, their beauty, and their smell—they still make me sneeze though and itch though.
I thought about them so much yesterday that I decided to buy myself a beautiful bouquet after I left my spin class. It brought me so much joy and contentment that I couldn’t explain until I received a text from my mother. In the text she said she’d gone to eat at Panera bread, a place she doesn’t like but that my Grandmother loved. She then she reminded me of something I hadn’t thought about, but it made the day’s events make so much sense.
My Grandmother LOVED flowers.
And often bought herself some. They’d always be sitting pretty on her kitchen table. Man, that reminder wrecked me and made me realize that the flowers I thought I bought for myself yesterday, were actually for her. Both a gift and a reminder that she’s still here. Though gone physically, her memory will be with us forever.
I hope you like them, Grandmother.