"I like your flowers better." are words I remember coming from my Mama Bernice after I shared a visit with her and her granddaughter. I had brought her flowers from my garden as was my regular gift to her, and her granddaughter brought her a plant bought at a store. Both gifts were given out of great love, but because the flowers I brought came from my garden and not Safeway, they reached a special place in her heart.
Mama Bernice has been a special lady in my life for forty years. I met her when I was a lonely fourteen year old. Her story is long and one I have written about, so I won't share too many details here. I met her in 1982 and she became family in 1988 when her son married my sister. It is hard to quantify what she meant to me in a blog post. I think even in my own reflective space, I can't even come to a full understanding of who she was to me.
When Covid hit, I was not allowed in her facility to see her. This was not easy on either of us. The last time I would see her in person was in 2019 and she just passed away in April of 2022. BUT... that didn't stop my flowers. I made special bouquets during the summer and brought them to her residence. I was told that they brought a smile to her face and she knew who they came from.
When she passed away, I chose not to go to the funeral. I was given a link to watch it live, and watched it on my computer while I was at my mother's house not that far away from the activities. There were a lot of reasons I didn't feel comfortable going to the funeral. I don't need to list them all here. I did get a chance to take some lilacs out to the grave after every one else had gone. My mom has a shelter belt of lilacs so there were lots of blooms to pick from. I filled up a bucket and went to the grave. I stuck the lilacs in the dirt mound that remained. It brought a fresh spring look to a rather desolate grave.
I have been back since to visit my Mama Bernice's resting place. Once I went by and I wasn't prepared with blooms from my garden, so I walked the perimeter of the grave yard and found something amid the wild weeds. I didn't want to leave without at least a simple botanical offering of sorts.
This week, I clipped another mix of flower blossoms from my garden - sweet peas, roses, lilies anything I found blooming and filled another container. I brought a bouquet that my sister-in-law gave me and put that at the head, while I spread the container of colours over the remainder of her grave (see above picture).
Grieving creatively really means connecting more personally with the loved one that is gone. Finding a special place, finding something that is just about the griever and the grief and being unique in that grief, brings so much meaning into the journey.
I could have done the funeral and graveside, for Mama Bernice, as so many did, but when it came to decide, I felt like my grief and sadness would have been lost in every one else's grief and sadness. I understand the need for some to have a corporate grief ceremony. It's not that I want to discourage it, it just isn't enough. I need to carve out time, a place and memories that are just about me and my loved one. In my grief and loss, I need to matter too.
“There are no goodbyes for us. Wherever you are, you will always be in my heart.” — Mahatma Ghandi
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