I have so many journal entries secreted away in my drafts folder, all unfinished. When was the last time I was in this place? Five and a half years ago. A friend of ours passed away. Life felt felt so raw, so very raw. There was no solace. I happened upon this new world of amazing flower artists/ designers shared through their blogs and got sucked in badly. Badly to the point of leaving the painters block behind and jumping back into the flower world.
Now another friend, another diagnosis. I understand the incantations and affirmations. I understand the deal making, the seduction of the doctors and nurses so that they will please, please take good care. But I can't know their pain and fear of these dear ones and the journey, for now anyway.
Now I think of a woman I'm working with to procure flowers for her DIY wedding. She wants 50 bunches of a scented flower that is nearly out of season. She wants to use this fragile flower tied in bunches on her Chuppah with no water tubes to provide moisture to the flowers. This flower is so fragile it very likely will be wilted when she walks up the aisle, but she doesn't care despite my many cautions. She keeps saying "it doesn't matter if they're wilted, it doesn't matter if they're wilted". It makes me crazy- should I protect her from herself? How can I be so irresponsible? As she has not shared her reasoning to me, I'm making my own stab at it this evening. All cut flowers are in the process of dying. Maybe she want to be engulfed in the massive scent of these flowers just once and that's enough. Maybe it doesn't matter past that moment. And when this bride walks down to the aisle to her possibly wilted flowers and husband to be, there will be full acknowledgement of the ephemeral quality of life.
Life is at the same time so precious and good and I'm so very lucky. And so I'll keep bringing you flowers and together we can make our way through.
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