My mother and I drove up Route 309 . We stopped at a retirement community where my mother’s friend had lived. I had lots of pink, white and yellow roses and other colorful petals and blooms. I asked the activity director if the residents would like a bouquet. “Oh yes, let’s go up to the beauty salon. Wendy’s son died yesterday. She certainly needs something today.” We took the elevator to the second floor, with two sacks overflowing with flowers (sometimes I need a shopping cart)…. and gave the grieving mother a bouquet of white gardenias. I thought of her boy – now grown and I thought of my son nostalgically – my sweet little Ryan, all grown up too. The poor mother probably thinking nostalgically of her boy back in the day when kids played with model airplanes and wooden blocks. If you have a second, can you send up a prayer for comfort for the sweet lady with the silver curlers in her hair?
And then we passed out the other “bouquets of caring” to the ladies walking down the halls with their walkers and a couple of others leaning on or walking with canes – all of them looking curious and expectant at me – the stranger in their midst – wondering what I was passing out. I put the flowers in the little fabric tote bags that each had hanging on the front of their walkers – the little bags that hold their tissues, glasses, newspapers and other sundry items. The flowers looked nice peeking out – a nice touch to decorate a steel gray walker.
“Oh thank you! Thank you!” A chorus of sweet voices expressing happiness at the surprise gift seemed to follow me as I walked down the hall.
If I could pick anything in the world to do on a rainy Wednesday, this would be it!