Remembrance Blooms

A couple of weeks ago I treated myself to an amaryllis plant. There is a small flower shop right at the train station where I catch my train to work on a daily basis. I was feeling particularly down that day and decided to walk in, since they were selling the autumn and winter plants for the garden already, and among them was a whole tray of freshly delivered amaryllis. This is one flowering plant I always enjoy contemplating or giving as a present, but somehow, ever since I moved to Berlin, I overlooked getting one for myself, and strangely enough, whenever an amaryllis appears in my life, someone has shattered my soul. Well enough was enough and I picked up the smallest one I could find, and home it came with me.

Mommy’s Amaryllis ©FrogDiva Photography

It has grown faster than I imagined, and before I knew it, my little bulb shot up and announced its first bloom. I smiled with delight, knowing that if the timing was right and my dear amaryllis kept going at the same rate, the flowers would bloom today, my mother’s third death anniversary.

Mommy’s death was something I was not prepared for, and because I had no closure, it will always be painful to remember her last days. I yearn for her laughter, her endless affection, and that incredible sense of adventure that she never let go of.

Magic wands ©FrogDiva Photography

She taught me the true meaning of faith, the inner strength of a woman, how to carry your burdens with elegance, grace, and a sense of humour, but most of all, the concept of unconditional love. She stood by me and loved me even when she could barely look at me at times. The face only a mother could love was true with me as a baby and she endured all the surgeries, and yet, she never, ever, showed an iota of disgust or difficulty.

Linda’s Amaryllis ©FrogDiva Photography

I miss her every day, especially in the small things, and even more so when the going gets tough. I would give anything to be hugged by her reassuring arms and be blessed on the forehead again. What I wouldn’t do to be able to take out for high tea one more time, and watch her face light up with the treats and sweets placed before her, or simply watch her fall asleep in front of the TV.

She continues to send me love notes from beyond, of that I am convinced. Sometimes in the form of sparrows, and others, like the flowers, are affirmations of her enduring love and reassurance that I will get through this storm.

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