We are all flowers

Written by Knightshade Leone

Dad passed on in the fall of 2002’. He was a good guy, liked by all. He wasn’t shy about speaking his mind but he always made sure that he did it in a way that was respectful and tolerant. He was a lifelong Republican, a lot of people his age were but he would always be the first to break party lines to stand up and be counted on the right side of history. Civil rights marches, granting women the right to vote and smaller fights like unionizing the old rubber factory. He’d say “ which right is right!” “ Don’t matter where you come from, what club you belong to or how much money you make, what’s right is right!” He loved dishing out advice and he was good at it. That’s what I remember most fondly about him. Those one or two sentence tutorials on how life should be. Back in the 80s I got myself mixed up in a bad crowd in a bad scene and I was just cooked, emotionally lost, had nothing left. I called of the old man and spilled my guts to One and without 1 ounce of judgment or criticism he says “ Son, your heart is your Thomas Guide and you WILL find your way home.” And do you know that that was all I needed to hear? He knew how to simplify things. He could take a world of hurt and whittle it down to the tip of a pencil for you.

Dad was having some medical problems in his later years. He started going blind but that didn’t slow him down one bit. “ We all got a find our way in this world son, don’t you worry about me” is all he said when I asked him to come live with me. He participated at the senior center, the VFW and The boys and girls club of America. His true later life passions though were gardening and church. He used to joke that church was a great place to meet women. Mom passed away 15 years before dad and I always wished that he’d take his own advice and find a woman to keep him company in his old age he never did. Though I always suspected that he in the widower across the street had been sweet on each other for several decades. I know they looked out for each other and that was a comfort because I had to move 300 miles away for work and I didn’t get to see him as much as I’d like to have.

Within 10 minutes of any conversation on the phone we had in those last year‘s dad would start in about a new breed of flower that he was creating. A hybrid between a Siberian Iris and an April Dawn Camellia. he called it “his flower” and he loved that thing. He could get it bud and then it would die and then the new bud would start and it would have blown and then it would die. He never stopped working on it, perfecting it and then one day he called and said “ I did it, I did it!” He had brought his flower to full bloom and he couldn’t have been prouder. I drove up that weekend just to see it for myself and I got to tell you it was kind of amazing. He had a world class garden in the backyard but that flower was the stand out.

For the next couple of springs dad spent most of his time in his garden. His sight was getting worse so gave up driving and most of his extracurricular activities but he always had his flowers to keep him busy. One day he calls and he’s as serious as the day mom died. He says “son I just want you to know that I’m fine and I’m doing well but it’s lookin’ like I’m totally blind.” “ now relax, I got everything I need and Cassandra, you know the woman across the street looks in on me every day and everything‘s gonna be just fine.” I asked him to move in with me again and he said his place was at home and that was all he had to say about it. I called him every day and went out to see him at least once a month. “ The flesh is weak but the spirit is willing” is all he’d say when I’d ask how he’s doing. Mentally he was as sharp as a razor. Even without sight he could always see when something was bothering me so when he figured out I was having problems in my marriage he would slip in a word of advice or two when I needed it most. That’s exactly what he did the last time we spoke. It had been two springs since dad went blind and I hadn’t heard him talk about “his flower” for a while so I asked “ how’s your flower doing this season dad?” He said with a laugh, “ well son you know I’m blind.” “ I lost sight of that flower about a year or so ago. I put up a stick marker next to it so I would know which flower it was but then the rains came in and it fell over and I lost her.” “ I loved the old girl but I lost her.” “But do you know what I found?” “ I found that if you treat anything like it’s the best thing in the world and you shower it with the love and attention it deserves, that thing is going to become the best thing in the world…to you!”“ You follow me son?” With the phone receiver up to my ear I just grinned and shook my head. I knew the old guy was talking about me and my marriage and that was his two cents. The next day Cassandra from across the street called and said when she went over to tell dad that lunch was ready she found him lying in his garden next to that flower that he was so fond of. They said he had a heart attack. There was a nice size gathering at his funeral. It was peppered with people who knew him well and others that kept coming up to me and telling me stories about my father giving them great advice. it was nice to hear.

I took dad’s last bit of advice and applied it to my marriage and do you know that me and the Mrs. are still together to this day? On his birthday we always try to find flowers like the ones in his garden and place them on his grave. He would’ve liked that. He was a good guy. I miss you dad.

The End.