These “special” days are always hard on people. Christmas is portrayed as a hallmark greeting card. Mother’s Day keeps florists in business. Father’s Day keeps the BBQs going and so on. While the advertisements paint a picture of joy, the reality is that many people carry losses that make these occasions feel more painful than celebratory.
The year that David died, someone gave me a bouquet of flowers that included some yellow tulips. When the cut flowers (no bulbs attached) eventually died, we tossed them out into the informal compost pile in the bushes at the edge of our lawn. For the past two years, one lone tulip has grown and bloomed, its bright yellow standing out among the spring greenery.
Although Mother’s Day is a tender day for me, having lost both my birth and adopted mothers and the son who made me a mother, I am fortunate to have a husband and good friends who surround me with love.
My friend, Alison, organized a “tea party” with our friend Dayna for an afternoon of chat, memories, treats and friendship. Coffee and scones with homemade strawberry jam and whipped cream set the tone!
Later in the afternoon, another friend, Hetty, and her husband Ian, sons Owen and Alexander (and by extension daughters Isaline and Ellie) dropped in to bring me a gift of this cheery bouquet of flowers that now sits in a place of honour beside my desk. The Smyth family are busy people, running their artisan cheese business, and raising their family, so it’s particularly special that they make time to drop in for a visit and even bring a gift to brighten my day. I often refer to their kids as my “surrogate grandchildren” since my son’s children live far away on the west coast.
Meanwhile, out in the bushes, the lone tulip folded her petals to shield herself from the rain and nippy temperatures so she can bloom again another day.
It is amazing how friends and family showing up, knowing it is a difficult day for me, can make things so much better. I am grateful.
Capturing Cherished Memories 