Lay no flowers where I die

It is not uncommon to see, as one travels, monuments of crosses and flowers where loved ones have met their death.  They stand as a solemn reminder to slow down, stay wary, and buckle up.  Perhaps placed there in hopes the dead were still near.  They are displays of love lost, shackled memories, grief.

 

English: Wild Flowers in the Rape Field, near ...
(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

With all due respect to the dead and their grieving, when I am gone, please lay no flowers where I die.  I don’t want silk or plastic flowers, or cut flowers that die and only remind you that I, too, am dead.  Place flowers where I lived.  Scatter seeds along the bike trail, at the dog park.  Plant a perennial in your garden to remind you and make you smile.  Plant a tree that will outlive us all!

 

Throw seeds out a window and let them grow like Jack’s mother with their beanstalk in the clouds.  Instead of memorial pamphlets that get saved in a box or recycled at the curb, pass out seed packets.  Let the world grow after I cease to do so.

 

Please don’t remember the date of my death.  Remember the days I lived.  Remember the date I came into this world as a screaming, writhing newborn, desperate to clench life in my tiny fists.  Remember the things that brought meaning to me — laughter, beauty, kindness.

 

English: Cut Flowers - Eden Project Pretty sha...
(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

See me in the tiny things around you.  I’ll not be in the place that I died — the hospital bed, the roadside — I’ll be there inside you.  In the things that make you smile — a laughing baby, a bumblebee , the sun on your face.

 

And you’ll find me in your darkest hour.  When you need comfort, solitude, a hug, wait for me quietly.  I’ll be there as sure as those who left before me are there when I need them.

 

When you find these places, scatter seeds.  Plant them in remembrance, in honor, in joy, but never in sadness.

 

Peace . . .

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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15 thoughts on “Lay no flowers where I die

      1. To be honest….probably nothing. Losing my mom was the hardest thing that I have ever had to go through…..she was my rock and she was only 51. I wouldn’t be the person I am today if I didn’t struggle through all of the crap that I did. This makes total sense to me now..and I do sense her sometimes.

      2. I learned hard lessons losing my mother, too. She was older than yours. 51 is too young. I would have done things differently, but then I am a different person now. Partly because of that — you’re right. Stronger, wiser.

  1. Oh Jean, this is so well said that I will keep it and pass it on with your permission to my family. I have said many times that I will not die, just shed my skin and move on to other occupations. I will start new work on another level and love where ever I am. This was just beautiful and I thank you for it. Told my family to have a party for me when I’m gone. Like a Bon Voyage party. Maybe I’ll order a fistful of forget-me-not seeds. 🙂

    1. Forget-me-nots. I love it. I have a few songs picked out on a playlist — for the party. Obviously I’d pissed if nobody cried, but then lets get on to smiling again, right?

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