Rosemary
Desiree
Rosemary
Desiree

This morning I decided to do something different. Instead of averting my eyes, I would walk right up to the window. The window of the ICU room where Mom died.
I wanted to bring flowers. And light a candle. But at this time of year, the roses, lilacs, and irises that adorn our yard are done until next spring. I've no money to buy a bouquet from a store. And I didn't have a proper glass jar candle. Then I remembered.
I remembered that the rosemary flourishes here all year long. That it was one of Mom's (and mine) favorite herbs. And that, in the timeless language of flowers, it symbolizes remembrance.
I took my pruning shears, cut a thick, fragrant bunch, and put it in a pretty red paper gift bag. I attached a note:
Dear Mom,
You died here, in the room behind this window, a little over a month ago. I love you and I miss you. I think of you, and pray for you often. Please put in a good word for me in Heaven, okay?
(I added a line from Shakespeare...)
Here's rosemary, that's for remembrance.
Love, D.
Outside the ICU there's a pretty little "tranquility garden". I placed my offering, my remembrance, among the juniper shrubs that grow below that window. And walked back inside to join Grandma in the waiting room.
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