The people who truly take the time to get to know me, know I am, by nature, a romantic person. I have a compassionate soul and a loving spirit and wear my heart on my sleeve. It's not something everyone sees, and cannot be seen in the span of a 10 minute online chat. And most who know me, or know of me, know what I do for a living. It has it's good days and it's bad, and sometimes the days just kind of run together. Everyday, I deliver flowers to people (aside from my other duties) and usually for all of the usual occasions. Some people are happy when they see me coming, some people are very cold and act as though they're being bothered by receiving a delivery. Very unappreciative.
Today was different.
Today I took flowers to someone and found myself touched so deeply by the circumstances surrounding them.
Near my shop is a retirement community. It has a building that houses patients in need of more constant care and has small cottages on the property for people who live more independantly, usually elderly married couples. Delivering to the people here is almost always a joy. They're so sweet and so thankful. I think a lot of them get very few visitors and probably aren't as remembered or thought of as they should be.
Anyway...I delivered an arrangement today to a lady named Doris. I'd never met Doris, I didn't know her, and I only met her husband when he came into the shop to place the order.
I rang the doorbell, and waited for awhile. I heard no movement and thought, perhaps, I'd come when no one was home. A few moments passed and I heard someone inside, and the door slowly opened.
Standing before me was a very sweet, frail little woman. I can only assume she was close to 70 years in age, or so. She did not have grey hair. She did not have any hair. She wore a sun visor on top of her head, which was smooth and bare from the chemotherapy she's been going through. She was clearly very weak, but smiled gently and said "Are those for me??"
I smiled back and said "Yes, they are. Would you like me to carry them in for you? They're a bit heavy."
She invited me in, and asked me to sit the flowers on her kitchen table. She then asked if I would hand her the card that was on them and remove the tissue paper that was wrapped around the arrangement to protect the flowers. I did as she asked and watched as she opened the card.
I've never, in all my years, and all of the people I've delivered flowers to for a hundred different occasions...I've never seen anyone light up the way she did. And I've never seen such a pure, unadulterated example of joy and love and happiness. She grinned and said "They're from my husband," as a tear rolled down her cheek and I found myself crying as well. In that moment, in that instant, she seemed so completely happy, completely at peace and it was as if nothing else in the world mattered. In that one moment.
I wished her a good day and she thanked me again and I left and felt more tears coming.
The occasion? Not a wedding anniversary or a birthday or any of the other calendar days where men are "supposed" to send flowers. It wasn't even a 'get well" or "hope you're feeling better." There was nothing out of pity or despair.
No, these flowers were to mark the day they had their first date, many decades ago. A first date.
Here was this woman, who was clearly going through so very much, and all it took to make her happy was a few flowers from the man she loved and who, obviously loved her dearly in return. Where is that kind of love today? Where is that kind of commitment and understanding and total unconditional adoration? I am sadded to think these are things no longer in existence. Things reserved only for the older generation, who grew up in a time where love and trust meant something. Where people knew how to treat each other.
I hope it does still exist. And I hope there are other people out there who see it and appreciate it. That's the kind of love I'd like to have.
Here's hoping.
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