I don't want to believe anything truly dies. The things we love, the people we love...we carry them with us regardless of how they wither away and leave us. Seasons pass and the petals on flowers shrivel up, the colors aren't as bright as they once were but I've thought in this state, flowers tell the most.
I have two flowers that I keep in a glass jar next to my bed. While their states of these two flowers may them alike, the stories they tell are different. The first was given to me by a boy I swear I wanted to love. I'm wondering if I'll ever reach a moment where the timing is "right." I hadn't seen him in more than a year and in a way, this was us meeting for the first time again. I'm easily pleased and this single flower lit my face up the same way a whole bouquet would. Holding on to this single flower from months ago may seem strange but to me, it represents the warmth and comfort a single person can provide you with. The reality is things don't always turn out the way you wish for them for them too...but I was thankful to have crossed paths with you. I have no problem taking a different turn on my journey if it means meeting you at the end of the road. The light you bring to my being will always shine.
There were bundles of roses placed on my grandfather's casket the day of his burial. I remember this day vividly and despite the daggers I feel in my chest when I think about it, I want to remember it forever. I've been able to come to terms with the death of my grandfather since March but the thing with grief is one moment it feels light like a feather and the next you feel yourself being suffocated by the weight of it. This single rose represents my sadness, my shaky knees and sweaty palms that day, the tears that have rolled down my face over again, and most of all, the last time I saw his face and held his hand. Holding the flower brings me back to that day. I still feel the pain so intensely but I am now able to smile, too. It's hard when the ones we love leave us. It doesn't feel fair but I'm realizing their presence will always linger. They're here and there with us, we just don't realize it. Being without the physical presence hurts but a spiritual presence can help our grief to feel a little less heavy.
To you, withered flowers may seem like something you'd throw in the trash and a thing to let go of but I hold on to them for the stories they tell, the emotions they keep within them. Life is full of metaphors and dying flowers are another one of those. I am reminded of the ways in which things and people don't actually die. They live on within us and the universe. Planting another flower may bring some joy to my life but the thorns of the flower that came before will still hurt me fro time to time. That's the beauty of life and its highs and lows, there will be thorns to cause hurt but there will be new beginnings that will bloom.
It all lives on with those withered flowers that lay in a glass jar by my bed side. I am unable to let go of some things and holding on to them assures me they will not die.