Friday, June 19, 2009

Crying

I cried and cried.

Now before I tell you more, understand that I get weepy when I get sick. Little things make me cry big tears. Add to that that I had just been told by my doctor that I had a name brand virus and would have to cancel travel for 7 to 10 days. We had a big trip lined up for Friday and I hated the idea of cancelling. I know people have a right to get sick, and I am 'people' but even so ...

Now to the tears.

On our way to the doctor's office we were driving through congested traffic. Downtown Toronto is under construction this spring and if you are going anywhere, you are going slowly. As we drove south I noticed a near block long hedge covered in small pink flowers. I don't have any idea of what kind of flowers they are, beyond ... um, pretty, pink.

But there, about two thirds the way down the block was one flower, a brilliant yellow. It stood out amoungst the thousands and thousands of pretty, pink, flowers. I don't know how it came to be yellow. I don't know if it knew as a child that it would grow up to be different. I don't know if the other pretty, pink flowers scorned it or admired it's individuality. All I knew was that it stood out, beautifully, against the dark green leaves.

We were driving very slowly so I had time to really look at the flower and for awhile it looked defiant, for another little while it looked lonely, and for the final little while it looked simply like a little yellow flower. I smiled thinking about how kind it was of God to make a yellow flower amongst the pink. It made the pink more beautiful. It made the surprise of yellow like a gift. It seemed very, very right to me.

On the way out of the doctors office, we were both relieved to know that time, rest and liquid would make me well again. We headed north and I wanted to point the yellow flower out again to Joe. I noticed that a gardener was out trimming the hedge and I panicked. Oh, God, No.

It was gone. Instead of nestling in amongst the green it was lying discarded on the ground amongst the other cuttings. I started to cry.

It took Joe by surprise. All I could do was point. He saw the place where the flower was, then the place where it lay, he just clenched his jaw and drove silently.

While I cried.

7 comments:

Brenda said...

I understand. I think it's a beautiful thing when one of us stops to acknowledge the death of another living thing...even if it's just a little yellow flower. Thanks for sharing this.

Linda said...

Dave
I too understand how your feel. Your post remindes me of the following passage from the bible....

Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin. And yet I say unto you that even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.

Take care of yourself my friend.
Love to you ....Linda

CJ said...

I understand how you feel.

Today, I will be attending the funeral of one of my little yellow flowers.

It would have been her 8th birthday.

Everyone who knew her was blessed by her sweet little soul and feisty spirit.

Her disabilities were too many to list. Some, you may not even know.

I was blessed to serve her and will never forget.

FridaWrites said...

I understand that--we have flowers growing in the "wrong" spot in the backyard. What may happen next year is that they have half an area full of yellow flowers. :) Hope you're feeling better--stomach bugs are awful.

CJ, I'm so sorry--this must be very hard.

Word Geek said...

You describe that level of emotional vulnerability so well. When I feel like that, I'm hard pressed to express it. It's not (I think) the actual physical yellow flower that you mourn, it's the way in which your metaphor of different being beautiful was so perfectly encapsulated in that yellow flower, but then life went and took the metaphor that step further. Even though we know different is beautiful, we are not allowed to forget how many do not see - and so will work to destroy - that beauty. When that makes you cry you're not over-sensitive, you're seeing the world for what it is. Unfortunately none of us can sustain that 24/7.

Carrie said...

Hi Dave -

I feel lucky to have heard this story, live and in person today at your conference. I hope you are feeling better.

Great conference today! You are such a pleasure to listen to and made the "conference clock" whiz by.

I hope you are back to your old self soon.

Carrie

CJ said...

Frida,

Thank you. Her great grandmother said a very special thing in her eulogy.

Even though she was not in the image of others (due to her disabilites) she was made powerfully in the image of G-d.