The Peace Lily


The Peace Lily. The plant of peace and comfort. The plant you see at every single funeral. The only plant in my house that has survived my neglect.
Someone sent this Peace Lily to my Dad’s service almost two years ago. I had to have it. I just knew it was a piece of him. A piece of that day. I also know my father found it extremely hilarious that I was taking a plant home, only for it to fall victim just like the others.
This plant was beautiful! It had blooms all over it when I brought it home. I know it sounds stupid, but this plant DID bring peace and comfort during such a tough time. It was alive and beautiful and thriving. Call me crazy, but it did.
It didn’t take long and the blooms were gone. I tried to stay diligent taking care of this plant. I have developed an attachment to. Just a weird grief thing.
For almost two years now, this plant hasn’t bloomed…not even once. Everyday I would inspect it and look for any hints of a possible bloom. Everyday I was disappointed. Yesterday I looked and THERE IS A BLOOM! Yes, it’s one bloom but it is the most beautiful bloom that I have ever laid my eyes on. I can thank my husband for taking over the care for this plant. He was probably so sick and tired of hearing me complain that the plant isn’t growing. It isn’t blooming. It doesn’t like me.
Two Easters ago was my father’s last holiday, his last hoorah. He hid eggs for my little ones while in excruciating pain. He told them all about the Easter Bunny. He made their day! He made my day! We made his day! We didn’t know that day that he would only be with us for another month but we acted as if it were our last minute together. Especially my stoic father.
Is it ironic that this plant of peace and comfort is blooming for the first time, right at Easter? Is it ironic that the weeping tree we planted when my dad passed away, was in full bloom when I returned home from staying with my mother in the hospital? Again, call me crazy, ( I don’t mind ) but I think NOT! It is anything but irony. It is him. It is my Dad. It is my Dad bringing me peace and comfort during this especially tough time of year.
Someone once told me that when you lose a person you love or that was special to you and you see, hear, smell or touch anything and it reminds you of them…they are right there with you. Those things that you see, hear, smell, taste and touch are all ways of our loved ones to remind us they are forever with us. It’s up to us to pay attention to the signs.
So yes, this plant, the Peace Lily is my Dad. The weeping cherry tree we planted in memory of him that was in full bloom JUST IN TIME for me to see, is my Dad. When I laugh, it is my Dad. When I cry, he cries too. This plant, the Peace Lily, is blooming and so is my Dad! ❤️