The flowers died on Monday

The flowers died on Monday. I should be upset right? Why then am I relieved?

I woke before sunrise, the air cool and still, the stars dimming overhead. In the garden, the fountain’s lights were flickering like a heartbeat faltering. The flowerbed was a hushed ruin of brittle stems. And then it hit me: Nana Yaw has broken my heart.

This isn’t just about the flowers. It’s about him. His absence pressing into every corner of this space we once shared. I remember his laughter echoing across the petals, the gentle warmth of his hand brushing mine. Now, with the blooms gone and him gone, there’s a hollow ache in my heart.

I glanced at the clock: twenty days, twelve hours, thirty-seven minutes since I last watered those plants. I’ve been counting every single second, trying to make sense of my own neglect. I wonder if keeping track somehow proves I cared, or proves that I’m still here, holding on to something that connects me to him.

I think back to the last time I was here with Nana Yaw. A delicate, pale-blue butterfly fluttered beside us. I can still see its wings shimmering in the morning light as he reached out, smiling. It felt sacred like a promise that he was present, and maybe always would be. Then, just like that, he wasn't.

I crouch now, among the dead petals, feeling the emptiness. My hands tremble as I lift handfuls of dry soil. I’ve waited so long to water anything. I am afraid that reviving these flowers without him would feel hollow. That new life wouldn’t carry his memory.

But I realize: this garden doesn’t belong to the past. It belongs to whatever comes next.

So I plant a new seedling right at the center of the bed. I press its roots gently into the earth. I pick up a small stone, the same soft blue as that butterfly’s wings, and place it beside the plant. A quiet dedication: for him, for memory, for whatever grace this garden can hold.

A single tender bud uncurls in the dim morning light not a replacement, but a beginning. My heart still hurts, but it’s not empty. It’s remembering how to grow again.

The flowers died on Monday. But today, I plant hope.

Kindly read and share with others. Have an awesome weekend folks.