A Blooming Friendship

            A Blooming Friendship

   Matt Finley was in the doldrums. A writer by trade, he had just finished his latest project and the manuscript was now with the publishing company. All he could do now was wait. Waiting though, was the problem.

   During the process of writing the book, Matt’s wife had suddenly passed away from a heart attack. Between making arrangements and trying to adapt to a life without Betty, he had nearly been overwhelmed emotionally. The days never seemed long enough to get everything done. Housekeeping was far down the priority list, and he would sometimes feel like he could hear Betty chastising him for being so messy.

   Now though, he had managed to get things back in order. In fact, he was so caught up that he had time to think…too much time. Sorrow became his constant companion. He tried other things to distract his mind. He went down to the coffee shop a few mornings in a row, to engage in conversation with the regulars. It was difficult for him as he was not a social person. Also, the seemingly constant topic of politics was not one that he enjoyed discussing.

   So, although the sun had chased yesterday’s clouds away and was shining in all its glory, the skies in his mind were dark. He decided to walk through the backyard to see if any chores needed to be done. Betty had been an avid gardener and she had a large collection of historic irises. She was so enamored of them that she named their only child, Iris.

   Matt sighed heavily as he exited the house. “If Iris lived closer I would go visit her,” he thought. He immediately excused that thought, remembering that his bank account would not allow for a plane ticket to California at the moment. So he continued his walk through the flower beds.

   Being early spring, a few of the iris were showing off their first blooms. His eyes got misty when he thought about how excited Betty would get when the initial flowers popped open. April, May, and June would find her cutting stems daily to put in vases, which she would then take to whomever she thought needed one. Sometimes it was one of her friends. Sometimes it was to a person who was sick. When the bloom season was in full swing, she would take a box of them to a local nursing home for the residents to enjoy.

   Suddenly, Matt had an idea. “If she could do that, why can’t I?” he said to himself, “How hard is it to cut a flower and stick it in a vase?” Filled with enthusiasm for his newfound chore, he headed for the basement. Betty always stockpiled bud vases for her work, carefully washing and storing them so they were ready to use when the time arrived. He picked out several of the white, milk-glass vases and took them out to the garden. Then he searched through her toolbox to find some shears.

   Just as he was about to snip the first stem, he was overcome by a feeling that he was forgetting something. He scanned his memory bank, trying to determine what it was. He replayed the scene that he had witnessed so many times before when Betty had gone about this activity. Finally, it hit him. “Flower food!” he exclaimed, “She always put something in the water to make the flowers last longer. Back to the basement, he hurried, looking through the containers placed neatly on some shelving along the concrete wall. However, none of the products there seemed to be what he was looking for. Feeling desperate, he pulled out his phone and called the local florist.

   “Fred’s Flowers, how can I help you?” said a female voice.

   “Hi, this is Matt Finley. What do you folks put in vases to make the flowers last longer?”

   “Oh, hi Matt! I’m so sorry about Betty’s passing. Are you planning on carrying on her flower-giving work?”

   “Well, it just kind of hit me today that I probably should. I think that she would want her flowers to be enjoyed by more people than just me. Besides, it will keep me occupied.”

   “That’s very kind of you. We actually had an arrangement with Betty. We donated our mixture for her to use. We always felt that she was doing a wonderful thing and wanted to contribute to her cause. I would be glad to continue doing that for you. Just stop by the store and I will have a gallon waiting for you.”

   “I don’t know what to say! That’s so nice of you folks. I will be there in a few minutes. Thank you so much!”

   An hour later, with the mixture in hand and some extra knowledge in his head, Matt went out to the flower beds again. There were only a few varieties blooming since it was the earliest part of the season, and those were the shortest types. He looked at the vases which he had picked out and realized that there was a mismatch. Back to the basement, he went to find some shorter containers.

   It was almost lunchtime before he finished up the collecting. He put the flower food away and then went back out and cleaned off the tools he had been using. Betty had been adamant about that. No matter how tired she was, she always cleaned the tools at the end of the day. He smiled, remembering the time that he had put a shovel back on its hooks without washing it off. He learned very quickly that was unacceptable, after undergoing a lecture on the importance of cleanliness in the garden.

   He washed his hands and quickly made a sandwich for himself. Then he started to leave for the nursing home. Managing to hold the three vases in one hand and extract his truck key with the other, he was soon faced with the dilemma of where to put the vases. There were two cup holders in the vehicle, but two of the vases had bottoms that were too wide to fit in them. He decided to hold the two large-bottomed ones in his left hand and drive with his right. It almost got him in trouble though. As he approached the driveway to the building, he reached across the steering wheel to activate his turn signal. His arm rubbed across the wheel making the vehicle start the left turn before the oncoming car had cleared the path. Matt was barely able to step on the brake to avoid the collision.

   After parking, and allowing his heartbeat to slow down, he gathered the vases and walked inside. He approached the first desk that he saw and smiled as the nurse looked up at him from behind the counter.

   “May I help you?” she asked.

   Matt set the vases on the counter and said, “I would like to donate these flowers for the residents. My wife used to bring some here. I guess you will know what to do with them.”

   “You must be Matt Finley,” she replied with a smile, “Your wife was such a blessing to the people here. I’m glad that you are continuing her work.”

   “She loved her flowers and loved sharing them with others. I figure it will be a good way to honor her memory.”

   With that, he turned to leave.

   “Mr. Finley,” the nurse called to him, “Would you like to deliver one of them? Betty usually took one to a patient and then chatted with them for a while.”

   Matt turned and looked at her. He hadn’t been expecting that. As he thought about the offer she added, “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

   “I guess it can’t hurt to try. I’m not much of a conversationalist though.”

   “That’s okay. Even if you only stay for a few minutes you could really brighten their day. We have a lady here who doesn’t get any visitors. Her children are scattered around the country and rarely make it here to see her. Grab one of the flowers and follow me.”

   As they walked, she warned him that the patient might not be very friendly, but advised him to just ignore that. “Her bark is worse than her bite,” she said, laughing.

   Reaching the room, the nurse said, “Miriam, you have a visitor.”

   A raspy voice replied, “Really? One of my kids actually made time to see me?” Then she looked and saw Matt. “Who are you?”

   “My name is Matt Finley. I have a flower for you if you’d like it,” he said, as he lifted the vase in front of him.

   “Sure, just set it anywhere. I guess it’d be nice to see something besides staring out at the sky all day.”

   The nurse pointed to a chair and then left the room. Matt pulled the chair over beside the bed and sat down.

   “What are you doing?” she asked.

   “I thought maybe we could talk for a while.”

   “Talk about what? All I do is complain. At least, that’s what these nurses keep telling me. One of them calls me Mrs. Crabby.”

   “There must be some good things that happen here. I often see events advertised in the paper. It can‘t be all bad.”

   “How would you know? Have you ever been cooped up in one of these places? It’s suffocating to my spirit. I’ve never been the kind to stay idle for very long. Now, I have no choice.”

   “How long have you been here?”

   “Too long,” she replied in an angry tone. Then, a softness fell across her face. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t take it out on you. You were nice enough to come here and bring me a flower. The least I can do is thank you.”

   “You’re welcome. My wife used to do this and I decided today to pick up where she left off.”

   “Did something happen?”

   “She passed away near the beginning of the year.”

   “I’m so sorry. I know how devastating that can be. My husband died late last year. He used to visit me every day. Once a week he would wheel me down to dinner and…”

   Her words stopped as the tears started. Matt reached out and grabbed her right hand. She squeezed it and wiped her tears away with her other hand.

   “He would have a single red rose in a vase on our table. We would eat dinner together as we had for so many years. I miss him so much.”

   “He sounds like a very special man. I guess we were both blessed with wonderful spouses.”

   “It’s just too bad that our children didn’t inherit any of his good qualities. I’m lucky if I get to see them once a year.”

   “How many children do you have?”

   “We had three, two boys and a girl. One of them lives in Oregon. Another is in Arizona. Our daughter got married and moved to Texas. Then, not only are they clear across the country, they’ve got my grandchildren. Two of them I’ve never even seen in person. Is it any wonder I’m crabby all the time?”

   “That is tough. Our daughter is in California. I’ve only seen her once in the past three years, so I know how much it hurts. She’s always caught up in running her business and it’s hard for her to get away. We just never had the money to fly out there all the time.”

   “Kids these days. They’re going to realize too late what they’ve been missing. I thought when their father died they might understand, but I guess they haven’t yet.”

   They continued to talk for a while before Matt got up to leave. “I’ll come back on Thursday with another flower. Would that be okay?”

   “Don’t be like my children and make promises you’re not going to keep.”

   “I won’t let you down, Miriam.”

   Matt continued to visit Miriam two or three times a week, each time bringing a fresh stem from the garden. She would always gush over the flowers, especially the pure yellow ones. It was her favorite color, she told him. One day, he planned a special surprise for her.

   As he walked into her room she said, “You’re late! It’s almost dinner time.” Then, seeing his empty hands she added, “You didn’t bring a flower!” and she started to pout.

   “I have something else planned,” he stated, as a nurse followed him into the room, pushing a wheelchair. “I would like to take you to dinner tonight.”

   Overcoming her surprise, she remarked, “But, I don’t have anything to wear!”

   “That’s okay. We’re just going down to the dining room.”

   The nurse got Miriam situated in the wheelchair and Matt grabbed the handles, following the nurse to the dining area. When they got there, she noticed a single yellow rose in the center of the table. Tears immediately filled her eyes.

   They talked and ate, and then it was time to go back to her room. The nurse got her back into bed and then Matt said goodnight. Miriam reached out and grabbed his hand.

   “You’ve brought back such wonderful memories of Glen. I wish I could tell you how grateful I am. Thank you just doesn’t seem to be enough.”

   “It has been a blessing to be with you tonight, to see your eyes light up with life. I’m glad if I have made this place a little more bearable for you. I also want to thank you. There has been a hole in my heart that Betty had always filled. You have helped to fill that void. I’m glad that I have gotten to know you. I guess we have helped each other.”

   The following Tuesday, Matt entered the nursing home with a box of vases for the residents. He pulled out a vase with a yellow iris and started for Miriam’s room.

   “Mr. Finley!” one of the nurses called out. He stopped and turned as she walked over to him. “I’m sorry to tell you this but Miriam passed away on Saturday.”

   Waves of shock and sadness washed over Matt as he tried to deal with the news. He walked back over to the counter and set the vase down. Then he turned to leave.

   “You can take one to one of the other residents,” the nurse offered.

   Matt stopped for a moment, then turned and said, “Not today. Maybe on Friday.”