Rules, Part Two

I love flowers.

My mother thought flowers as a statement of sympathy, or celebration, were a waste of money. She loved having flowers but never sent them. When she had returned from surgery a few years ago and the flowers started piling up, she was disgusted.

What a waste, she sighed.

Me? I love flowers. I received some today, along with a small tree, which I believe, was an attempt to not be wasteful on something as fleeting as flowers but to still acknowledge, in a traditional manner, my loss. They are all beautiful. My office smells like roses right now. I love the smell of roses.

It is completely against the rules, to be wasteful in such a manner. And I have always been a rule breaker. Not only do I buy them for myself, I often by them for friends to mark a special day or anniversary. I have been known to buy them for trivial, playful moments like the first day a friend’s oldest child entered middle school. I sent a single rose to a friend in remembrance it’s been ten years in remission from cancer with a card promising two roses when it’s been twenty. It really doesn’t matter how or when, I simply love flowers.

Why is it against the rules? Whose rules are they? Why do I embrace such a rule that is contrary to my senses?

How I’ve viewed so much of the world is changing. I’m starting down a new path, putting one foot in front of the other, trying to slowly absorb it all. A friend wrote, "Changing all this, after your mother's death, must be very very difficult. You have to do it. Think of it as going back to school, re-learning how to be, work, love.”

It’s true. Today, I re-learned something that may seem small but is very important to me. Flowers are not a wasteful expression. In my eyes, they are beautiful, elegant reminders of how exquisite a moment can be. They are not meant to last.

So, completely against my mother’s wishes, please forget donating to special causes or charities- you should be doing that anyway- send me flowers.