Amidst oatmeal and yogurt drinks, Brennyn notices that her flowers are gone. They’ve been sitting there for at least 3 days, withering, fading, drooping pathetically, barely hanging on to any semblance of life. Today, I must empty the vases. “Where’d my flowers go?” Brennyn’s eyebrows arch, then scrunch. “Mom? Where’d they go?”
“They died sweetie. I had to put them in the garbage.”
could break a person’s heart. Apparently. So says my Facebook friends. Me and Kaya, well we laugh. Because Brennyn, she has seen flowers come and go many times and we are somewhat taken aback at this face, this reaction. We laugh, first at the unexpected burst, but then in the knowing. Ah yes, we nod in ascension, we know that pain. We get it. What Kaya and I are not always good at, is expressing that emotion. We feel it. So very deeply. But we don’t always know how to let others see us feel it. Brennyn has no such qualms. Her face is an absorbing, expressive read that never holds back.
Stoic face though I may have, when flowers die look into the rims of my eyes. See the arch of my back. Hear the catch in my words. Or just look at my table. Wilty, sunken flowers waiting patiently, if not eloquently, for me to say goodbye. Kaya, I have noticed, quietly moves to her felts and paper and draws them in happier scenes filled with rainbows and waterfalls.
Brennyn, on the other hand, mourns outright and loud. With tears, cuddles and boogers wiped all over mommy, this is her goodbye.
make a plan for bringing home sunflowers next,
and with that, she can move on!