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You are here: Home / The Best Part Of My Day / Petal Pushers

Petal Pushers

May 14, 2013 By Gail 3 Comments

The flower “buckets” stood empty, and I was amazed.  I had never gone into a Trader Joe’s grocery store without seeing a dazzling display of bouquets, orchids, and blooms.  At first I thought something must have happened—like a freak freeze—but then it slowly dawned on me why there were no flowers.  Mother’s Day happened.

Even now as I think about it, I saw oodles of people carrying flowers about on that day.  Some looked harried, as though Mother’s Day had snuck up on them once again, some looked pleased, and some looked thoughtful.

My husband and I bought a bouquet of mixed flowers and took them to the mausoleum where his mother’s ashes rest.  I stood quietly as he placed his hand upon the cold marble and had a private moment with the woman who shaped him into the fine gentleman he is.  Later, as we wandered about the building, I noted a vase of carnations with a hand-scribbled note:

Dear Mom,

As a mother you were the greatest dad.

I miss you.

Love, Tony

 I smiled at the story that must exist behind those words.  We love our mothers in endless ways, struggle against their bonds at times, and find their words seeping out of us as we in turn become mothers. My mom used to say, “Don’t bring me flowers when I’m dead, bring them while I can enjoy them.”  But, oddly, she was never a flower-loving woman.  I’d bring them anyway.  Moms and flowers, the best part of my day.

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Filed Under: The Best Part Of My Day

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Through my blog and website, I hope to share beauty, laughter, inspiration, aging & midlife lessons and advice on dealing with menopause. I will also devote time to integrative health and healing tips and news. I want feedback and questions because, while we may be sharing the journey, every woman has her own experience and her own story.

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Comments

  1. Claudia says

    May 16, 2013 at 12:44 am

    My grandmother and I had a wonderful bond. She lived 1/4 of a mile from us and I got to see her every day. Like most grandparents, she found me much more interesting than my parents and I adored her. I used to bring her flowers when I was in college and working and she loved them. She always said, “Please don’t bring flowers to my funeral. I love them NOW. Don’t come to my funeral. I won’t be there” Our son, Tyler, born by c-section, was 5 weeks old when we got in the car to show him to my grandma, now 94 years old. On the trip to see her, she died. I didn’t go to her funeral and I didn’t send flowers. She and I knew what our relationship was and I didn’t need to go to a ceremony to prove it. I think of her in every bunch of flowers, and I smile because of her gifts to me. Flowers matter when I am alive . . . . .

    Reply
    • Avatar photoGail says

      May 20, 2013 at 5:22 pm

      Simply, as always, a beautiful comment. Thank you Claudia.

      🙂 Gail

      Reply

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    June 6, 2013 at 10:02 pm

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