My garden has been neglected all year. I’ve had no time for feeding, weeding or much of anything, and it shows. It looks like an overgrown, unkept mess, yet somehow it has managed to keep pumping out armloads of flowers for me to take to mom…beginning with hyacinths in late winter and ending with roses, dahlias and gardenias last week.

Last weekend I took these with us to my parents’ farm. The bouquet went with us on our hike into the woods and up the big rock formation where wild fern grows on top. That’s where mom and dad wanted their ashes to be once their souls were in heaven (his ashes had been waiting for her on their nightstand since he passed in 2010). We spread their ashes together and left the flowers in a crevice on the rock that held the bouquet perfectly for them.

These were just a few of the jars of flowers that adorned her room in the hospice facility where mom spent her last few days. My sister & I were holding her hands when mom went to join dad and the other angels last Wednesday. Two days before, I rushed around to cut some of her favorites and put them in plastic cups to transport to her. I had been taking cups full of flowers to her during her health struggles all year. Every cup holder, and sometimes even the side door compartments of my car, would be filled with cups of flowers in transit to her. She always loved watching me take them from the plastic transport cups and arrange them in mason jars. I would hold each rose to her nose and tell her its name. She never opened her eyes or spoke once transferred to the hospice facility, but I held each rose to her nose and told her its name anyway. I know she heard me.

These were some of the flowers that I brought to the hospital for her 81st birthday on 8/26. It was the day before being transferred to hospice. She still had some moments of alertness at that point. I think these brought her a bit of joy, in spite of the circumstances.

And these are some I brought to the hospital the week before her birthday. She was rushed there that week from the physical therapy rehab facility where she had been since breaking her hip in late May.

Mom’s health problems began early in the year. Minor stuff at first, but the problems seemed to snowball…first sciatic nerve issues, then cellulitis, then an afib issue, then a broken hip. After the hip surgery, her health issues escalated and so did my garden’s flower production. Amongst the knee high weeds, dead sticks that were once perennials, out of control self-sowing annuals, dahlias laying on the ground surrounded by broken stalks from lack of staking and rose bushes with lots of dead wood and many black and/or yellow canes, there were always so many beautiful flowers to cut. There were hyacinths and then daffodils, jonquils and the like for the sciatic nerve issues. Then roses and peonies for the cellulitis and afib. Peonies are not reliable bloomers here, but this year every single one I grow gave me blooms to take to her.

I visited her multiple times a week during the first few months of the year, and then visited her every day during my lunch breaks, evenings after work and weekends beginning in April when things turned more serious. I took flowers with me to refill the jars at least once a week. The scent of roses filled her room daily at home or the hospital or the rehab facility…wherever she was at the time. During lily season, their scent wafted down the hall of the rehab facility long before you reached her room, as did the gardenias who thankfully gave me sporadic blooms throughout the summer…gardenias were her favorite. The lilies started early this year and kept going longer than usual and so did the gladiolas. By the time the lilies and glads started winding down, the sunflowers, zinnias and dahlias had already kicked in, and of course, there were always fragrant roses to take.

Thanks to my garden for giving so much in a year that I gave it nothing. I will try to get you back in shape next year, but please forgive me if tears fall when your sweet scents bring back sad memories from this year.

Thanks to my rose friends for letting me share the story of our horrible, but somehow still beautiful year.

Mom & Me on Easter, April 1, 2018. This was one week before her more serious problems started…things can change so quickly…