We had a death in the family last week, which meant my family here in North Carolina traveled to Ohio to be with the extended family and be there for the funeral. When I left home, my geraniums in pots on the porch had robust green leaves and a few bright red flowers, the hanging basket of lantana was still going strong and out in the vegetable garden the peppers were still perky.

We were gone for six days. Not that long in the big scheme of things, but during the time we were gone we experienced our first hard frost here in Elkin. So when I drove back up my driveway I wasn't welcomed by my sunny lantana. Instead,the geraniums had been nipped and the leaves are now yellow, the lantana is brown and crisp and the pepper plants out in the garden are very droopy. Even the jack o’lanterns we had carved that looked so festive were filled with mold and had lost their shapes. 

It was all just a very visible and tangible reminder of the experience we had just lived through. Living things don’t last forever. Whether it’s people, plants or pets, everything eventually makes it to the end of its life cycle and dies. I can’t help but be a little sad when the beauty of the spring and summer fades away. I love the bright colors of fall and the stark beauty of winter, but losing all those blooms that I fostered and loved for so many weeks can be sad in its own way.

The wonderful thing is that blooms will come back. Spring will come again and the bulbs will shoot up, I can buy another Gerber daisy, and the winter pansies will be replaced with something summery again in the porch pots.

Unfortunately I can’t do that with my sister-in-law. My youngest son asked why we couldn’t open her eyes and wake her up, and I marveled at his innocence and trust in life. It would be wonderful if we could just wake up our loved ones like the spring wakes up the flowers every year. But since we can’t, I did what every good gardener does. When we looked through the many nice gifts of flowers and plants after the funeral, I picked out one of the planters to bring home. I already have plans to separate the plants out into a few pots, putting some in our living room and one in my daughter’s room. And after the cut flowers have faded and the tears are mostly gone, we’ll still have something living to remember Angi by. A little living testament to the sweet life that was cut short too soon.