Her Brother's Flower

Her legs felt heavy as they carried her through the greenhouse. It was one of the first nice days of spring. The air was gentle and warm enough to wear shorts and a comfy sweater, so she took advantage of it. April was one of the most unpredictable months of the year in the Midwest. One day, it could be sunny and wonderful; the next likely brought sub-freezing wind chills and flurries. She stood still and smiled as the sun hit her legs, curiously looking at the world around her. She knew she wasn’t much of a plant person. She deeply admired a beautiful garden when she saw one, but she wasn’t the best at keeping them alive on her own. Back home, her mom had the most wonderful green thumb. Although she only visited once or twice a year, she looked forward to seeing what masterpiece her mom had created; she had so much open ground to play with on the farm. Of everything her mom cared for, her favorite was the giant rose bush in the front yard, by the old basketball goal. It bloomed once a year and produced the most brilliantly different shades of pink roses.

Today at the plant nursery, her heart was set on something else. She was searching for a particular flower- one that meant more to her than almost anything in the world. It was the flower that rested so peacefully on her little brother’s casket, on the day they laid him to rest. It was the worst moment in her life, leaving him forever on that cold January morning. She didn’t remember much of it- she always struggled with being vulnerable and open, especially when it came to sadness and pain. She took great pride in her ability to stand tall, be confident in herself, and support others in times of tragedy. Even a year after his death, she felt everything but strong. She knew a part of her heart would forever be gone, buried in the ground with him.

She completed a full circle on her heels, her eyes wide with desire as she searched. The last bit of life she kept of her brother was in those very flowers. Such heavy heartbreak and so many tears fell upon that arrangement on his casket, and yet there they lay, so unbothered and so beautifully fragile. The world felt so cruel and bitter, but most of all, the world was horribly unfair. Bad things should not happen to good people, she thought.

She had nothing but her memories to rely on. Almost an hour had gone by with no luck. She was ready to turn toward the exit when suddenly, it hit her. She stopped dead in her tracks. She closed her eyes as she took a deep breath in- there they are. Well, not actually, but she could smell them somewhere nearby. The hair on her arms stood as she followed her instincts. Thoughts crept into her mind as she moved closer- was she really ready to revisit this chapter? After all, crying showed weakness, something she utterly hated. She shook her head clear, recouping herself. Damn right, she was ready. Ready to heal, ready to feel, ready to fully mourn her brother… This time, for real.

The moment her eyes locked on its purple pedals, her knees grew weak. She dropped to the pavement as tears filled her eyes. The most beautiful shade of violet, his favorite color. She knew now why her mom had picked them to cover his casket. Her palms gently cupped her face as sobs quietly rattled her chest. She felt afraid to open her eyes and see. What was she even doing here? She hadn’t cried since that dreaded day, and here she was, an absolute mess of emotions. After a moment, she regathered herself. She focused on the flower’s peculiar detail. The world around her sat still. Through her tears, somehow, she felt free; better than she had in longer than she could remember.

She hesitantly reached out and cupped a single flower in her hand. Her fingertips felt like fire. She managed a deep breath and let it out, releasing what felt like a lifetime of pain and sadness. She looked down at her shaky hand that held the flower, a light smile showing through the tears on her cheeks. She traced the small tattoo on her wrist. It was her only tattoo, and it was in honor of him. Engraved in her skin forever were the letters “Love, Vinton”, written in his handwriting. The tattoo served to remind her that through everything, he would be there with her. At this very moment, she believed it. She could feel him.

She no longer cared who saw her or what they thought. A newfound light overtook her, and for the first time in over a year, she felt at peace. She sat cross crossed on the cool cement, completely immersed in her own little world; daydreaming, weeping, praying, smiling, hoping, and loving.