Charles and I were pallbearers at a funeral today. Our good friend, Todd (one half of the couple that introduced us), buried his mother today. He was her pride and joy. He was a good son to her.
But Jean was more than just Todd’s mother. She was special to many people. She was special to me, too. After my mother died in 2018, my siblings and I were doing all we could to keep Daddy healthy, happy, and engaged in life. We could tell he was lonely for company from people of his own generation. Oh, sure, he enjoyed his adult children doting over him, cooking his meals, or taking him to the casino once in awhile, but something was missing. I decided to try to do something about it. I invited several of my friends out to dinner and asked them to bring their parents. Todd is the only one who did. A couple of days later, Daddy asked me to get Jean’s phone number for him. He called her up like a champ and that was that.
They were close friends until the day he died. She was not a substitute for Mom to him. Mom was an introvert that measured her words carefully. Jean never met a stranger. She said exactly what she wanted to say, when she wanted to say it, without apology. She didn’t need to. She never said anything that warranted an apology. A skilled hairdresser, she cut his hair for him. Thank goodness for that, because after Mom’s death he adopted a Dukes of Hazzards look that concerned us. They went out for dinner. They had conversations that he could not have with us kids. She made him laugh and she kept him from being lonely. For me, she was a gift.
Her obituary listed some of her favorite charities for donations “in lieu of flowers.” It seemed odd for someone like Jean to ask for no flowers. A mutual friend who couldn’t make the funeral suggested we could go in together on an arrangement and she would pitch in. But I told her about the request and put it out of my mind.
At the service, the sanctuary seemed barren with only one plant and two floral bouquets near the casket. “Someone didn’t listen to instructions,” I thought. Then, “How nice of them.”
At the gravesite, as I righted the bouquet of pink roses that had blown over, Teresa (the other half of the couple who introduced Charles and me) told me she had brought them. “I know she said no flowers,” she said, “but after seeing her home and all the flowers in her yard and knowing how much she used to love taking care of them, I thought ‘that will not do.’ The only thing I could figure is that she just didn’t want to put anyone out. I know she loved flowers.”
I scanned the casket that Jean had picked out for herself. It was trimmed out in pink roses. Of course she loved flowers, I thought, of course she did. What a failure on my part to not recognize when a lady was just being low maintenance.
The handful of people that made it to the small cemetery an hour’s drive away each threw in one of Teresa’s lovely roses and said our goodbyes before the grave was closed.
On the way home, I really thought about the “no flowers” request. Women can be so silly. Most of the women I know, in our younger years, told at least one man they didn’t like cut flowers. I am guilty of it myself. “They are waste of money,” I’d say. “They are just going to die. Please don’t bother.”
This is all in an effort to impress the man with how practical we are and win his heart forever. One young man even told me the reason he dated me was that I was so practical! But, all it got us was no flowers. Men tend to believe the things we tell them (especially if it saves them money and a trip to the florist). And it isn’t only young women; just recently a woman my age told a group of us how she had told her husband not to waste money on roses for her birthday because they were impractical. He took her at her word. Talk about pruning off your nose to spite your face.
“You know,” I said, trying to set her straight. “The cut flowers in the shop are grown to be cut. In fact, pruning them causes the plant to be healthier and produce more blooms.”
“Really?” she mused.
“Yes, I grow roses myself, among other flowers, and if you don’t prune the mature flowers, the plant doesn’t have the energy to put on new ones.”
“Huh,” she said.
“Besides,” I said, “even if that weren’t the case, don’t you think you deserve something even if it doesn’t serve any practical purpose other than it is pretty? You can make potpourri out of the petals, you can throw them out for the birds to eat, but mostly, you can enjoy them while they are here and not worry about when they will be gone.”
Actually, come to think of it, that’s not just good advice in regard to flowers.
I love flowers. Jean did too. Teresa saved the day being her usual generous, thoughtful self and brought flowers Jean would have loved. We don’t deserve Teresa.
When I got home from the funeral, I noticed my own rose garden giving a final show before shutting down for the winter. I was delighted to see that every bush had blooms. I took pictures and have added them here for Jean. I hope she likes them.
Let me just go on record, here. I want flowers at my funeral. Being dead is no time for a false show of low maintenance-ism (a term I just made up). I love flowers. Bring on the flowers. Pick them from your garden, grab a bunch from the grocery store or pay the high florist price. I want the flowers. I’m worth it, Jean is worth it, and so are you.
But, still donate to your favorite charity.
Lovely message and I’m guilt of being to practical, I may have to stop it at my age, I need to smell more roses. Thanks for sharing.
I needed that smile and giggle at the end. ❤️