Monday, April 25, 2011
I have known it as the Lenten Rose. At least that is one of it's names. It holds beauty that no other flower I have known possesses. And it's mystery beholds my curiosity. These are the varieties in my garden. For the first year, the burgundy ones have bloomed. I blame this on my Grandma. Today...Easter...I went out to admire them before I went off to work. I thought of my Grandma. I thought of Jesus and the meaning of Easter. The sun was shining on their meaty petals. I still am fascinated with the flower. After all these years. Grandma was very religious. She would have liked the flowers.
Helleborus is commonly called the Christmas Rose. An old legend has been passed down in the "Land of Gardens" or at least by those of us that cherish nature's goodness...that the "mysterical" flower sprouted in the snow from the tears of a young girl who had weeped because she had no gift to give the Christ child in Bethlehem. This among the legends and myths is my favorite and I hold onto this story because the flower is so beautiful. I have passed it onto Bug in hopes she will also enjoy the legend and beauty.
I rushed off to work only to be bombarded by crazy calls, emergencies, fights, gunfire, burglaries, drunks, and drug problems. I didn't have time to breathe on the Easter chaos. I mean... seriously...when they said "Roll the stone away", I am sure in ancient times they never thought it would behold bats flying out of the cave...only peace and harmony that Christ had risen. Yet...the crazies had risen. Had I missed Jesus?
About 8:50 pm, my brother called to tell me Grandma had just passed away. As I walked down the steps from my friends house after gorging on Easter dessert, I found the tears rolling down my face. They couldn't last long. Before I knew it...the police radio was blaring of emergencies and I was sent to back an officer who was dealing with an uncooperative, irrational, and drunk crazy person.
Game face. Stone face. Only it was stone laden with rain. I was such a boob. But I loved my Grandma very much. She was very close to all her grandchildren. I was the oldest. My life had been blessed with her in it.
No sooner was I en route to the drunk, when the House of Popo then called for my assistance to negotiate a woman who was firing her gun in the air and then threatening it at Sarg. They were at a standoff. Bracing myself in the car going over 100 mph, I was waiting for him to fire and anticipating the police radio to ring out with shots fired...I held off my mourning.
I didn't have time to grieve...until now.
My Grandma was a fine lady...a community pillar...and I will surely miss her. She has left me with a legacy of love and the finest example of a woman I could know. It brings me peace she passed on Easter. It just says it all ...how Jesus values my Grandma...to bring her home on his special day.
As I walked barefoot through the garden today with the sun beating down on me and lighting up the beautiful petals...I couldn't help but think my Grandmother was walking with me.