Fresh Flowers on the Grave

 

 

Image courtesy of Unsplash.

 

I walked up the hill as I so often did. My 15-year-old son rested there with a black obsidian stone that we had ordered from Africa standing guard. Many people had left mementos over the 7 ½ years since that night of hell when we lost him. There were tiny figurines, glass etchings, a link of chains with the number of people who were supposed to be in our family, notes, items from his favorite ball teams. Then, along with Christmas ornaments and coins, we kept a vase of artificial flowers.

Ironically, I often found black widow spiders on the flowers or near the stone. Since I study arachnids, it was like a special message from me-one that spoke of the anger we both felt from the loss of his life through mistakes and excuses. When I looked at other graves in the large cemetery, I found only one other place with a black widow spider-my mother’s grave.

As I walked up the hill on this early summer day, I noticed a new container of flowers sitting in front of the stone. They were light orange with delicate leaves dancing in the breeze. As I reached the grave, I realized that the flowers were fresh. It was unusual to find fresh flowers on a grave that was not a new grave because they do not last long in the heat and wind.

I knelt down to look at a small note attached to the vase that held the flowers. On the front , I could see a set of fading initials-it had rained the night before and I couldn’t read them. As I turned the little note over, I saw a delicate pink heart. I smiled. He never got the chance to experience true love, but after all these years, someone still loved him, thought of him. Without coming to a conclusion about who the flowers were from, I smiled, ran my fingers across his name as I always did and knelt down by the stone, whispering, “I love you.”

I was reminded of something my grandfather used to tell me. “As long as someone loves you, and remembers what you loved and dreamed, you will never be forgotten.” The scent of fresh flowers wafted in the air. For just a moment, I was with him and this time, we were not alone.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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16 Responses so far »

  1. 1

    Sandra Bennett said,

    Someone loved him for sure, and still does…..Also others, too many to count !!
    Sweet thoughts.

  2. 2

    Beautiful Brenda
    Hugs

  3. 4

    beebeesworld said,

    Thanks for reading my article. beebeesworld

  4. 5

    Lovely…..hugs♥♡♥

  5. 8

    This touched me, Brenda. Hugs :-)

  6. 9

    Judy said,

    Brenda, this was so touching and I related to it deeply. Your beautiful son (with his crooked smile you described sweetly once) will always live on through you. Such a horrible tragedy – as you suffer with it and imagine instead of going to the cemetary, you would be celebrating his life events growing up. It’s heartbreaking.

    • 10

      beebeesworld said,

      And now I am watching my father slowly decline. He is is Solace, but they may decide not to let him stay. Its is just awful what they are putting him and all of us through with their moving and not telling us what is really happening -they say needle biopsies will only show a certain amount and he is to old and weak to survive further exploratory surgery.

      • 11

        Judy said,

        My heart aches for you. Setting my father free (a song I wrote with that title) causes me to cry. Such brave and selfless men, suffering and losing their dignity. It ignites the grief we have – it was a comfort for me to watch him cross over because I imagined my young son was holding his hand. Thinking of you, Brenda.

  7. 12

    Sara Healy said,

    You captured a mother’s love in this writing so well. To see the fresh flowers and read the note, feeling that even though he died so young, someone else loved him really touched me.

    I was interested in the reference to spiders. While I’m not fond of spiders, they have played an important role in my life, often appearing when I’ve faced a crisis. They remind me of both the fragility of life and the continuity. A spider builds a web, which often gets broken, but they start over.

  8. 14

    cshowers said,

    This was so painful and poignant. It felt as though I was eavesdropping on a very personal, private moment. I pray the mother in this story finds comfort and peace to overcome the grief and pain of her loss. God bless you for writing something so personal and beautiful.

    Cheryl

    • 15

      beebeesworld said,

      How thoughtful for you to comment on my story. It is true, except the “fresh flowers” part-that was a prompt. His flowers were all silk. The note was real. His friend wrote a rap song about him and our family. it is on you tube. it is called, “Keep Ya Head Up by Benahani Keenobi.


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