Eden’s Flowers

Trigger Warning: This story contains themes of death and grief.

“So, Charles, I want to start by having you think of what you and your daughter Eden used to do. Think about the most memorable things you used to do together.” I lay back and comply with my therapist sitting in front of me. I close my eyes and drift off to how things used to be.

Three months prior

May 13, 2018 — the day of my wife’s funeral. My daughter Eden and I were on our way home. I was driving, and she was in the backseat. Now, I still don’t know if she understood death at the age of seven. She never seemed sad when it happened, but she was always hopeful.

“Dad?” Her sweet, innocent voice called from the back of the car.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“When we get home, can we go to Mommy’s garden?”

“Sure,” I replied, mimicking her sweet tone.

I remember when my wife started that garden. It was about three months ago. I remember her telling me that once they bloomed, she would give them to Eden on her birthday. Flowers, to Eden, were unique; she always loved watching shows about flowers, reading books about flowers, and especially loved planting flowers.

Once we got home, I helped Eden out of the car, and she ran toward the backyard; her brown curly hair bounced with each step, and her navy-blue dress danced along with the wind. I unlocked the front door and stepped inside. I made my way to the back door and slowly opened it, revealing Eden staring at the buds on the ground.

“When will they bloom?” she asked, still staring at the flowers.

“They should bloom soon — I’d say maybe a few weeks.”

I walked over to her and sat on the ground next to her.

“When they bloom, I wanna give ’em to Mommy!” she said excitedly.

I looked at her with a soft smile and nodded. She gave me a look of excitement and then looked back down at the flowers. She reached out her tiny hand to the bud, caressed it, then gave it a small kiss.

“Why’d you kiss the bud, sweetie?” I asked, softly, confusion in my voice.

“The kiss is for Mommy, so when I give it to her, she’ll get my kiss!” she said with even more excitement in her voice.

“You seem pretty excited about giving Mommy that bud, don’t ya.” I chuckled.

“Yeah! Because it will make her happy, and I like it when she’s happy.” She looked at me with a bright smile.

I smiled back. Then she grabbed my hand and stood up. I stood up after her, still holding her hand.

“Come on, Daddy, let’s go inside!”

Later that night, while I was in bed, I was crying. I missed my wife, and I wondered why she had to leave so soon. I just sat there, remembering what the officer said at my doorstep.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Parker, your wife, Julia Parker, has been involved in a car accident and didn’t make it.”

If only I were there with her — maybe I could’ve prevented it.

“Daddy?”

I looked up to see Eden with concern on her face. She was in a light pink nightgown with stars on it; she had a piece of paper in her hand as she slowly walked up to me.

“Yes, sweetie?” I asked while wiping tears from my face.

“Why are you crying?” she asked, concern in her voice.

She stopped at the end of my bed and climbed on to sit next to me. She hugged me, and that made me sob into her shoulder.

“It’s because of Mommy. She’s gone now… forever,” I said shakily, trying not to cry.

“But she’s not gone forever. No one is gone forever unless you forget them. As long as you remember them and they’re in your heart, they will always be with you.” She smiled at me.

Where would a seven-year-old get that from? She interrupted my thoughts.

“Here you go.” She held out a piece of paper with a marigold flower scribbled on it.

It was a marigold — the ones we had growing in our garden. Some of the coloring was out of the lines and looked rushed.

“I made it for you so you can keep it forever, and it won’t die, so that you won’t miss it.” She smiled.

I still had my eyes on the paper. A tear dripped off my cheek and onto it.

“Don’t cry, Dad. I made it so you can be happy!” She pulled me into a hug. “Goodnight, Daddy!”

She pulled away from the embrace and went back to her room. I sat in silence for a bit, then laid back down and drifted to sleep.

The next day, when I woke up, I looked out the window and saw Eden outside watering the flowers. I soon changed into jeans and a black t-shirt and made my way to the backyard.

“Good morning, Daddy!” She petted the flowers softly as she smiled at me.

I walked toward her and sat down next to her.

“Tomorrow, I wanna go back to school.” She kept her eyes on the buds.

“Are you sure you’re ready to go back, sweetie?” I asked with concern.

She giggled. “Yeah! Why wouldn’t I be?” Her eyes were now on me.

“Well… because of what happened to Mommy.”

“I told you, Daddy — she’s always with me in my heart!” She pointed to her chest, smiling.

“Well then, I guess you can go back if you want to—”

She interrupted me.

“Yay! But make sure you watch the flowers, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.” I smiled at her, and then she ran off into the house.

That night I didn’t even cry like the past nights. I just kept on thinking of what Eden said: She’s always in our hearts.

I guess so. Ever since my wife passed, I never felt lonely, so maybe she was with me, and I just didn’t know it.

The next day I took her to school, and as she was getting out of the car, she said,

“Remember to watch after the flowers, okay?”

“Got it, sweetie.” I smiled softly at her.

“I love you!” she said as she put on her backpack.

“I love you too. Have a great day!”

She smiled, closed the door, and ran to the school building.

On my way home, I thought back to how she had been touching and looking at the marigolds yesterday. How she petted the buds and the joyfulness in her eyes as she looked at them.

Once I got home, I went to the backyard; they didn’t need to be watered, so I just sat in front of them and watched. After about thirty seconds, I decided to go back inside and check on them later.

I walked into the living room and turned on the TV. I sat down on the couch and skipped through some channels. I landed on the local news. They were talking about a new gardening shop that had opened up.

“Huh, maybe I could take Eden there,” I thought.

Just then, as I almost flipped the channel again, a breaking news story was presented:

“Breaking News! Miles Elementary School burned down in a matter of minutes due to a gas leakage from an oven.”

That’s Eden’s school.

The rest was a blur; I couldn’t hear anything. I almost fainted. I immediately ran to the kitchen, grabbed my keys, and rushed out to my car to make my way to the school. I drove nearly ninety miles an hour.

As I sped down the road, I kept repeating to myself, “She’s okay. She’s okay. I can’t lose her.”

Once I arrived, I hit the brakes and stepped out of the car. The scene was horrible. Worried parents scattered the area, along with firefighters and police officers. And the worst sight of all — the burned building.

I only saw a few kids with their parents. I walked up to a police officer and asked frantically,

“Have you seen my daughter? She has short brown hair. She was in a green dress. Her name is Eden Parker.”

“Eden Parker was taken to the emergency room not that long ago.”

I thanked him and ran back to my car, driving straight to the hospital. It was twenty minutes away.

Once I arrived, I went to the receptionist and gave her Eden’s name. She directed me to the unit she was in. I sat outside her room, waiting.

Six hours passed before anyone came out. When the doctor finally stepped out, I stood up immediately.

“How is she?”

“I’m sorry, sir. The burns were too severe, and her body couldn’t handle it. I’m afraid she has passed away.”

He gave me a look of sympathy.

My body froze as my heart broke. Not again, I thought to myself. First my wife, and now my daughter.

Why did this have to happen to me?

On my way home, I did not shed one tear. She will always be with me — just like Julia — in my heart, as long as I remember her.

Once I got home, I went straight to our garden. I looked down at the flowers in front of me and sat down. I leaned in, kissed the buds, and petted them. Tears fell from my eyes onto the petals.

“Mr. Parker, are you okay?” My therapist interrupted my thoughts. “You zoned out for a minute.”

I gave her a reassuring smile. “Oh, yes. I’m fine.”

It’s been two weeks, and the flowers have bloomed.

I take them to Julia and Eden’s grave.

I don’t cry — I smile.

They got the flowers they had been waiting for.

And I got the feeling I’ve always wanted —

Them with me.