My oldest sister Linda died two years ago today. Last week I bought long-stemmed white roses that reminded me of her. They were her favorite flower. The roses quickly bloomed then faded away, petals barely clinging to stem.
On Monday I bought white spray roses to replace the long-stemmed ones. Already in full bloom they will quickly fade away and drop petal by petal onto the table. A rose’s life cycle is a short one, especially after it is cut away from the mother plant. As I sit and stare at their beauty I wonder if the unusually quick life cycle of bud to bloom to fade is trying to teach me something.
What do you think? Is a rose’s life cycle like that of a person? Do we burst into being as a bud, then morph into full bloom, only to fade quickly from the scene? I mean, Linda was like quicksilver as a teen and twenty-something, then she morphed into a wife and mother, and succumbed to a heart attack as her children became young adults. Her daughter is married and about to become a mother herself. Her son is single and anxiously awaiting his niece or nephew.
Was I close to my sister for most of her life? No. That was my other sister, Cindy. I was an admirer from afar. Do I miss my sister Linda? Yes. She was a touchstone of my life. Do I wish I could bring her back for some more time with us? Yes. I’d love to hear her throaty laugh one more time.
Angels. My sister is one of them now.