My grandmother is the last remaining grandparent Brian and I have, making her our children’s only great-grandparent. The summer began with Granny being hospitalized over a heart procedure and her 87-year old body began to fail her. We battled complication after complication all summer leaving us wondering how limited our time with her was. With so much uncertainty in her health, I made sure to visit her as much as I could with the children. Her focus and goal was to meet the twin boys. At times, we questioned if she would achieve that. Weeks before the twin’s arrival, my grandmother was moved from the hospital to a nursing home, no longer able to return to her 80 acre farm where she had resided alone for nearly 25 years.
Every single visit I arrive with flowers. She lives in a room now, with not much space to call hers and things are viewed differently in terms of appropriate gifts. Fortunately, flowers are ALWAYS an appropriate gift. I watch as my vases of flowers sprinkle a trail of smiles from each passing resident on the way to Granny’s room. The flowers start conversations, they provide joy, and their fleeting beauty represents so much more in this atmosphere. In fact, I came across an article this week about the fleeting beauty of bouquets and the timing and title was so fitting that I'd like to share it.
This week, and as many weeks that we have, I will spend half a day clumsily lugging 4 kids to the nursing home with whatever bouquet I can scrounge up in order to visit. Granny’s memory is failing and her health continues to decline. I will savor these moments. I won’t forget the light in Granny’s eyes when Adelaide presents her with the flowers. I won’t forget Granny’s chuckle when Mary shares the balled up petals she plucked off of the flowers on the ride over. I won’t forget the importance of all of this when I scrub last week’s dirty flower vase.