Flower Petals

 Flower Petals (trigger death/terminal illness)

Hannah was just an ordinary woman , she had no real greatness to her but a warm smile. She would just smile at others passing by because she could. Everyday at noon she would walk by the flowershop to get a fresh bouquet for her home because she felt too bad about cutting her flowers in her garden. 

“They would die and I wouldn’t want that.” she’d implied. I loved how she said that she wouldn’t want beautiful things to die.

Though she would always grab extra plant food just to make sure that they’d live long enough. I would always give her extra flowers , daisies, bright yellow carnations, and daffodils because of the warmth that she shared with me.

I am Luke , the owner of “ Symphonic Flowers” , I am thirty-eight years old and have had one love in my life though she wouldn’t dare ruin our friendship as she said over and over. I had longed for her embrace . Her golden hair swirling around my dark auburn short blades . Her scent of vanilla and fresh cut grass into my nostrils always fading off whenever she left. 

She was thirty three when I first met her. She was a painter of sorts, she created beautiful crafted works of the cosmos, of soft delicate flowers, and my most favorite of people she met. She would always bring in to the shop a work of who she met , random people albeit , because she would always paint on her porch that had a patio and a deck. 

She lived across from my flower shop , I would always play violin music or up beat instrumentals for my area and she would sway , swish, and prance about in sundresses. 

Always in sundresses. We lived in the south , so most of the climate was either hot or cool. I thank God because I loved how she looked in her dresses. Full of blossoms , yellow , pink, white, black, and my favorite of all flowers Sweet Peas. Lathyrus Odoratus. 

Fragile ,ruffled petals , and a kind that climbs growth across gardens. Very thin petals ,soft, and flexible stems.

These flowers were multicolored which reminded me of….

….her. Hannah. 

I sighed , cutting , arranging flowers into a small bouquet for a wedding order. I tie a pastel lavender ribbon around it and call it a day. 

Hannah has already left my shop an hour or two ago . I look up and she’s painting , blasting her own music.

I smile so wide. Her birthday is coming up. I have the most amazing present ever for her. I knew what she liked, she would always complain about not getting the brushes to work right or the paint she used was too chalky. 

I would listen to her prattle about it for thirty minutes just in awe of how intelligent she was. Making me fall in love with her more. I had found books on whittling, paint making from flowers, and brush making.

I had concocted out of my favorite flowers in my shop to make her a count of twelve paints in a small box set with her own hand made brushes out of horse hair that I bought from a special client that came in daily to gather flowers for his wife’s grave.

“Take great care of that woman.” he mused “Don’t be afraid of telling her how you feel. “ he patted my shoulder. The man was in his eighties and his wife had passed very early in life. Though he never remarried . He felt as if she was his only wife and companion. 

I envied this man so much because I never had the gaul to tell Hannah that I , Luke, loved her in more ways than I could imagine,but that day was coming soon. It had taken me so long to gather everything that I was growing cold feet until one day.

“I have cancer.” Hannah said through sorrowful blue eyes. She had a scarf wrapped around her head .

“What?” I asked too out of my mind to grasp this fatality that was my life.

“I’m dying ,Luke.” she said again, this time pulling her scarf off and revealing no hair. No golden tendrils that was hannah. Instead it was vacant of what made Hannah, Hannah. 

Her smile that usually was warm was now full of lament . 

I never thought as long as I knew her that she was like a dying flower now. She ran and finally embraced me ,but for quite the opposite reason this time. This time. Her body felt colder than usual.

“How long?” I gently asked . All I could hear her say through my shirt were loud gasping sounds as she sobbed heavily into my chest. I wrapped my arms around her ,quietly taking in the embrace selfishly and at the same time embittered that I could no longer keep this dynamic up.

This time though. I wouldn’t be a distant admirer. I would be up close and be at her beck and call. I’ve known her for four years and in those four years I’ve seen her date many people , some good, some bad, some very ugly in character.

Just like flower petals of my arrangements , I had delicately built this relationship out of friendship. Before this ….

She would always celebrate my birthdays with one strawberry cupcake and as much as she hated to bake.

“I hate to clean up! But for you….” she widened her grin “But for you, I’d do anything.” 

That evening , I went home early. I couldn’t still keep the shop open when I know the very person I ever loved would be gone soon.

Life has it’s ways of knocking you down when you think that it could be better it turns to the worst. Though now , I decided to show her how much that I cared for her.

How much that I….

Loved her…

I opened the shop the next day,but before I had a chance to talk to any customer I went straight across to her house .  

“What’s going on?” she said tiredly . She wasn’t outside painting early as usual. “Come to the flower shop. I want you to be with me today and I will be with you tonight and cook for you.” I said not letting her answer.

“Please” I pleaded “Let me .” 

Tears dripped slowly and she nodded smiling. “Of course.”

We ran over back to the flower shop, this time , I was prepared. That night at home I made wreath stems of every flower she ever said she liked and placed them everywhere in the shop. 

“It’s …beautiful…” she breathed. 

“Magical right?” I blended the flowers by picking them closely together to merge into a floral constellation , just in flowers. Blue, indigo, white, trollops of violet ,lavender, cascading all over the shop for her.

Just for her. 

She sobbed once more , “I’m not done yet “ I interjected. I handed her a baby blue box with a white ribbon on it. “You didn’t have to. “ she said happily.

“I did.” I said warmly. “Open it, Hannah.”

Inside was the paints,brushes , and one more added gift. 

A wedding ring. 

She gasped ,placing the box gently down , she took out the opal pearl ring that I picked out for her. 

“Luke ….I….”

“Marry me ,Hannah. “ I asked grabbing her hands gently removing the ring from her hands and placed it on her left hand. “I have loved you for so long , so deeply, and with what you’re going through is too hard for me to bare with you being alone.”

She wept. “Luke…”

“Hannah, I love you.”

It was then that she embraced me , the way that I ever so wanted. Tears flooded my brown eyes as I held my now fiance. 

Or so I thought…

“Luke, I’m sorry.” she cried aloud . “I can’t marry you….I’d be selfish to do that to you.”

My heart ebbed with pain.

“Why?” I tenderly said as I pulled away from the hug. I held her face gently “Hannah, I love you ….” I thought for a minute. I’d do anything to be alongside this girl. I had loved her so much that even if she broke my heart now I would want no one else.

“ Let me at least be beside you in this journey then.” I begged “I don’t care if you don’t marry me, keep the ring , and I’ll come and help you around the house.”

“Ok.” she sobbed again

It was then our journey began. 

I couldn’t have her. In any shape or form ,but at least I’d be with her.

Hours turned to days and days turned to months. Like a petal of a carnation without water , her life filled body started to fall.

Her smile that was with her came to downcast and just like a withered flower in the wind.

She was dying.

I couldn’t stop it . I wished of all my might towards God that I’d have more time. 

But just as the months past and the year came.

“Luke…” she heavily breathed on the hospital bed.

“Yes?” 

“I have something to give you. There’s a box it’s medium sized under my coat on the chair. I had a friend bring what I made for you here .”

She made something for me? 

I opened the box , inside was my own painting of me with fresh cut flowers.”Did you buy them? They’re beautiful. “

She coughed “ I pulled them from my garden”

My heart stopped. She …gave me flowers from her own garden. “But I thought …”

“We all die ,Luke…..but today….I wanted you to have those because I love you too.” She then closed her eyes.

The line flattened.

She was gone.

I walked over to her bed , picked up one of her hands, pressing my lips to her now-growing-cold hand. I kissed my love onto it.

I never had her ,but from what she gave back to me was worth more than a million diamonds.

It was something that I never had.

Laughter.

Kindness.

Love.

Beauty.

Just like flower petals…