Gamma’s flowers

Gamma's Flowers

By, Nan Claire Falkner

“What about these pink flowers Momma? They’re pretty. Gamma would love them!” Dinah said, squinting her eyes as the sun peeked out of the winter clouds.

“Oh sweetie, what a wonderful idea, and they‘re from her own garden!” Charlotte said.

“Okay, I’ll go get the newspaper to wrap them in.”

“Don’t run with the scissors!” Charlotte shouted as Dinah bounced into the back door. And just like that, the tears came, streaming down both her cheeks.

“Oh Mother, why did you die?” She wailed. “I need you!”

“Your troubles are few.” the wind whispered back.

 

Dinah shouted “Momma, Daddy’s home!”

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47 thoughts on “Gamma’s flowers

    • Dear Perry, Thank you so much for reading and commenting. I remember when I was starting college and walking up the hill of “Old Main” at the University of Arkansas in the fall. Life was fully ahead of me and it was a beautiful fall day. I think of that day often and of others that were similar. Life goes on after all the sadness, but those cute little munchkins that follow us make life worth living! Thanks! Nan 🙂

  1. Dear Nan,

    I know how Charlotte feels. Even after thirty three years little things will trigger memories of my mother. I miss her still and think of her often. Poignant story and sweet dialogue.

    Shalom,

    Rochelle

    • Dear Rochelle, Everyone that has lost their Mother – Mommy – knows what it’s like. I look at all my 14 + grandchildren and marvel at their energy and laughter. I wish I could stay forever and I think with God’s help, I will! Nan 🙂

  2. Dear Nan,

    A sweet, sad and beautiful story, redolent with love and spanning three generations. Gamma is watching over them and that is all that we can hope for in this life. Well done.

    Aloha,

    Doug

    • Dear Doug, Thank you so much for stopping by. You are absolutely right. Gamma is watching over them and I hope that’s what I get to do to – I am called Nana though – I enjoyed your comments! Thanks! Nan 🙂

    • Dear Wilbilbo, Thanks for stopping by. Yes, it is sad. My mother died in 1990 and I still think of her every single day. She told me once that losing your parents is something you never get over and she was right. Her mother died when she was 17 and my mother raised her younger brother (Uncle Jack) who was 7 at the time. Thanks for liking my story! Nan 🙂

    • Dear Draliman, I’m sure I’m a lot older than you, but I’ve lost both my parents – I was 32 when Daddy died, 40 when Mama passed and Mike’s parents both died a year ago and I miss them so. But, with all these young grandchildren running around, it makes us see things in perspective – I wouldn’t have things any different – ever. It brings a smile to my face and soul each time one of the kids put their arms around me and say “I wuv you Nana” Life is about the changing of the guard constantly. Thanks, Nan 🙂

  3. Dear Nan,
    This is a tender story of death and rebirth. Charlotte is wise to listen to the wind. Her little family will keep her going and bring new joys despite her grief. Lovely tale.

    All my best,
    Marie Gail

    • Dear Marie Gail, Thank you so much. Yes this is a story of passing the batons from one generation to the next and it’s so poignant and happens all the time which is only natural. I love my family and am so glad I have children to pass it on – plus every time the kids have another child, there is a new audience for my silly stories and Mike’s too. Thanks! Nan 🙂

    • Dear Plaridel, Thanks for reading and commenting. Yes, life is touching and sad and happy and glad all at the same time. I have enjoyed mine so much and still look forward to a lot more, if God chooses. Nan 🙂

  4. I think people will always miss the loss of their parents, no matter how old they are. But the living pulls them out of this sadness. I do believe this.

    Lily

    • Dear Hafong, You are right, the living do pull us out of sadness. How can you stay sad when you have a grandchild wanting to sit on your lap – or to sit next to you. It’s heaven here too! Thanks, Nan 🙂

    • Dear Alicia, I know my mother used to say the same thing, as I did with mine and now tell my grandchildren also. Without time passing – none of us would be here! Thanks. Nan 🙂

    • Dear Alice, I remember my mother always telling us not to run with scissors. I think Dinah had the safety curved and rounded kind that take forever to cut through anything (but can still hurt). Thanks for commenting Alice! Nan 🙂

    • Dear Amy, Thank you for stopping by my story store. I’m glad you liked it. I lost my Daddy when I was 32 and Mother when I was 40. I still miss them both every day. Mike’s parents both died last year and I miss them so much. Well, it’s Christmas and memories pop up easily. Have a good Christmas Amy! Nan 🙂

      • I’m so sorry, Nan. That’s tough. The holidays are hard on my husband who lost his dad a little over a year ago. Wishing you a peaceful holiday season, Nan.

  5. This is so ve well told. You have lifted the real story outside the immediate action. We just observe the current and get a hint of things that have passed. The scissors got me a little confused first… I almost thought something bad had passed. The last sentence also hints that dad might have been more absent than he should..

    • Dear Bjorn, You are absolutely right. Maybe the hubby had been gone when she needed him. As for the scissors, It’s pretty ‘American’ for mothers to tell their children not to run with them in their hands, Thanks for stopping by! Nan 🙂

    • Dear Dawn, Oh, I’m so very sorry you lost your mother at 33. For years I would think about things I wanted to tell Mom, and then the pang of loss would hit. Most of my friends have this occur to them also. Nan 🙂

  6. Hi Nan,
    What a lovely story. You do a great job of capturing the pain of grief. It doesn’t matter how long the life lived was, it still hurts when a cherished life reaches its end, especially when it’s a parent. Beautiful take on the prompt!

    Take care,
    Emilie

  7. Such a moving story Nan, and one that resonates very strongly with me.
    My mother died at Easter last year. It was an unusually cold, dry spring and her huge patch of daffodils seemed to be suspended in frost for weeks after she died, long after the flowers should have faded.
    She always said she felt closest to her mother when she was gardening. Now it is in my garden that I feel closest to her. Many of the plants in my garden came from cuttings that my parents cultivated, and I have planted a rose garden in her memory – flowers and thorns for the mix of pain and happy memories, and varieties with names that would make no sense to anybody else but are hugely significant to me.

    • Oh my goodness Siobhan, This is a wonderful idea! You are brilliant and your mother was lucky to have such a daughter that would put her memory in a rose garden. This is such a tribute to her! I love the names of the varieties that are significant. Very smart and clever. Life has been a blast for me – good times and bad and sad and glad times. Well, you wouldn’t want it any other way – because that would be depressing. I’m 65 now and the clocks a ticking but it is a fun ride and I want every bump and curve to be amazing, exhilarating and am holding on for dear life! Thanks! Nan 🙂

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