Dave’s first surgery after diagnosis was days before our anniversary and a week plus before my birthday. One of the things that he did in the days leading up to his surgery date was stop at our local florist and order two deliveries. He was worried that he wouldn’t be up for such an errand afterwards and wanted to make sure I had something special on those days. I have to admit that this year, when those dates rolled around, a small part of me was hoping that somehow he had managed to pull that off once again.
I buy myself flowers on a pretty regular basis now. I like how they brighten up a room. Even a cluttered, dusty room. Trust me on this. It is based on heavy duty research. The flowers that were delivered here after Dave died were so lovely. None of them were funereal. They brought lightness and beauty.
Today is Dave’s mom’s birthday. Her first after losing her oldest child. I cannot for a minute imagine what it is like to be in her shoes. She and my father-in-law have just returned from a trip during which they scattered some of Dave’s ashes at some special places they revisited. That is a journey that I am not yet ready to take, and I am in awe of their strength. I imagine today her heart might be a little heavy.
We sent her flowers, of course. (I might have been drawn to the orange flowers. Maybe.)