The Bare Gardenia Plant.
Today had its ups and downs. Moments of hope, then moments of defeat.
I was at my family’s home, packing my newly washed clothes, gathering my belongings from every which room, making the attempt of not forgetting a single item, and began my good byes to my parents, as I was to be heading back to my petite space.
As I was saying my farewell to my Mom, she began to tear up, saying how great it was to have spent all this time together. Something began tugging at my heart, and I began to tear up as well. I said I will be back in a few days, but still, my heart felt heavy. Perhaps it is that I have been surrounded by my family for the last two weeks, falling back into the swing of how things were when I was a permanent resident of that home. Perhaps it was the overwhelming sense of walking into an empty space once more, nervous if I will feel alone. More than anything, I believe it was the acknowledgment of facing what I was able to push aside while on vacation, real life.
I closed the front door, tears on the verge of falling down my cheek, when I saw a single gardenia on the otherwise green plant next to the old wooden bench in the front yard. This is not just any gardenia plant, it is one in honor of my Grandma, my Eme, that passed away this year. While I am fully aware that this may sound crazy, I must tell you, this plant is special.
Let me explain.
For one reason or another, this particular plant doesn’t bloom. Too much shade? Light? Water? Nothing. It sat for weeks on end in the front of the house, with nothing to prove for itself. Then, there was a set of days where my Mom was missing my Grandma with all her heart. It was the kind of sadness in which you simply just want to scream at the moon because you’re not quite sure what else to do. My Mom needed something, anything, to give her a bit of hope. And that’s when she saw a lone gardenia on the continually scarce plant. She knew in her heart of hearts it was my Grandma smiling down on her, showing her she was still there. My Mom, was suddenly full of hope, especially when after she picked the flower, and it went back to being a green bush for the next month. Only one flower, just for her.
Today, I needed hope. Today, the gardenia plant gave me a flower. Today, my “happy” was looking down, and knowing that someone above is smiling a beautiful smile, telling me it’s okay. It is funny, how exciting a lone flower can be. Ninety-nine days ago, I don’t think I would ever be this ecstatic about such a thing. But now, I could not imagine not being excited about something that brings hope.
I had a great few hours, then things began to turn. I found myself crying once more, on the freeway from church to home. It was here, in which something occurred for the first time. Usually, when these tears come fast, I pray. Or I’ll scream, and ask God for strength. Tonight, rather than God, I directed my words towards my ex-fiance. Why this happened, I wish I knew. What I do know, is how therapeutic it felt. At first, between the sobs, all I could muster up was “I am so mad at you, I am so mad at you, I am so mad at you.” I regret not counting the number of times this was said, but each time the words came out, it felt better than the last, as though pain I didn’t know was lingering began to pour out. As the sobs eventualy became a gentler cry, I told him how much he hurt me. I told him that I trusted him. I told him how angry I am, for hurting my family. As quickly as the tears began, they stopped, leaving me with a silent car and a sense of exhaustion in my soul.
Whatever occurred on that long road of pavement, felt freeing. I was able to release feelings into the air that I did not know I had that within my being. Now, bits and remnants of anger and pain are sure to be floating around somewhere between the Harbor and Valley View exits. While I am bound to bump into them once more, it will be okay. Because the feeling after the tears, the ones full of hope, are incredible.
xo.
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