Flowers.

So many flowers this week.  Flowers at church.  Flowers at home.  Something beautiful to mark the beauty of life.   Something beautiful to try ease us through the ugliness of loss and the pain of death.   

I love flowers.   Especially lillies because you can smell them as soon as you walk into the room.   I was so excited when a friend sent flowers the other week to remind that she was thinking of me as I moved through the year mark.   And then one of my boys showed up to a dinner party with flowers sent my his mum.   

Flowers.  Life.  Beauty.  Death.  Waterlilysmall_2

I finally just now broke down and threw them away.  They had past their sell-by-date probably by several days and no longer brought comfort – they had all dried up. 

As much as I love flowers – it drives me crazy cause they die.  And sure you can buy the fake ones that will last and last and last … but it doesn’t quite do it for me … it’s not the same, there isn’t the depth as with fresh cut flowers.   And even with as perfect as they look … there’s something just not quite as beautiful about them because they’re not real … they’re not alive. 

It seems I’ve spent the best part of the last two weeks thinking about life and death; beauty and pain; love and loss.   To little new travail.   

But as I threw the flowers away (and the dried petals and leaves went everywhere) , I smiled remembering my brother after mum’s memorial service … he wanted to plant the altar flowers so they’d keep on growing and living.

We’re just not wired to let go, it seems.  Who wants to let go of something beautiful, comforting.  We want to remember, we want to hold onto what was.   And who can blame us.  I waited a good three days or so to throw away those silly flowers – waited until I absolutely had to. 

But the reality is that flowers once they’ve been cut, are dying anyway – even with all the beauty and perfume they bring to our worlds.  I don’t like it.  But it is.   

And so a year has passed.   I’ve thrown the flowers away. But still cleaning up their remnants scattered all over my carpet.  Living with a little more hope for what is yet to be.

As it was.

As it is.

As it will be.