The thing about sunflowers…

(Sorry, this is a bit sad.)

From the day as a child that I first realized sunflowers were my mother’s favorite flower, I tried to make sure there were some on her table as often as I could afford or find them. Many bouquets, or single, huge flowers, placed in her hands. Her eyes would always light up, and she’d say the same thing, "These are just [b]perfect[/b] !" 🌻🌻🌻

During the last few months while she was in the care facility, I would present her with a single sunflower. She would smile, clapping her hands like a child. The last day that she recognized me, I brought a bouquet; she was sitting in bed, expressionless, not speaking. She saw the flowers, her eyes lit up ever so briefly, with a hint of a smile, then were expressionless again.
I put the flowers in a vase on a table and sat with her. 🌻

At the funeral, everyone had sent wreaths of sunflowers. It broke my heart, because I thought, "but she can’t enjoy them now !" 😞
Later, I was sitting with my sisters and said, "I may be able to visit where she rests, but I don’t think I’ll ever take sunflowers. You can do what you want, but it’s too hard knowing that she won’t be able to enjoy them." My sisters hugged me, the younger said "[b]She’s[/b] not there." "That’s the point," I explained. "I’ll bring flowers, because it’s the custom. But sunflowers were for [b]her[/b], especially. And she’s not there."
R.I.P., Maman.