When I first learned Nicholai had cancer, I purchased an orchid to celebrate his living and to mourn his imminent passing. The blooms were delicately beautiful, giving shape, color, and texture to my feelings for my canine friend. As time marched on - and on - each delicate orchid grew brown, dry, and finally fell, till I was left looking at scrawny, naked stems. After a week, the bloomless plant depressed me - harbinger of things to come - and I removed it from my daily sight.
Last week, two lovely flowers opened, one on each stem and I see buds for several more. An anthurium that hasn't blossomed in years shot up two bright red flowers and yet another orchid delighted us with two more blossoms, each as fragrant as a tropical breeze.
I don't know that I ascribe particular meaning to the sudden emergence of flowers on our reluctant tropical plants. But I notice, and I appreciate. Death is almost unbearably sad and life is almost unbearably beautiful - every dog, and every blossom.
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