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In a "happy, smiley face" sort of culture
people are fond of "keeping positive." But life's
transitions occur in spite of all the effort. On these occasions
there are no smiling faces, but grief.
Plunged into a depth of feeling for the unjust
shortness of life, I lost my mother at age 33, and for a few
days, didn't know where to turn my eyes. I had a large responsibility
at work and thought I might try to divide my time into a day
(non-grieving) and night (go ahead) management of the keenly
painful loss.
For a few days I could manage, in a groping sort
of way. By day four, the job had become meaningless, and important
details related to my responsibilities were going unnoticed.
The plan was not working.
Remarkable to me at the time was a delivery of
fancy orchids, displayed on a charming sort of rack, tastefully
wrapped in a silk ribbon, a kind of concoction of delicious
shades of vanilla cream and textures of soft pearls. It was
delivered to my desk, when my concentration was at its lowest
and I remembered a gasp in silence for the beauty that so suddenly
appeared without warning.
At first the flowers were a felt experience of
relief. What a surprise that was, as I was so used to considering
them pretty enough. A remarkably deeper response to their tender
freshness and elegance sent me into resonance and awe. I was
struck by their role on my desk, as an actor on a stage, expressing
the beauty and the shortness of life in their metaphor of fragility,
and impermanence. As I peered into the blooms, I felt that I
was looking at something that so poetically transformed my office
that I better tolerated the work, and found my errors.
The orchids and their presentation were a calculation
of taste, harmony and sweetness. They focussed my eyes, and
spoke directly to the heart. It was a revelation to feel their
address on my wound, their raison d'etre.
Flowers at the time of grief, when presented in
a personal, and unceremonial way, can give a larger meaning
to the loss, and apply life's immortal tale of brevity in the
unassuming, natural fashion of the designer who sweetly constructed
their presentation.
On another occasion I experienced flowers in a
very different interpretation. A funeral hall was lined with
the tightly gathered carnations and baby's breath of the typical
FTD Florist delivery. The roses tucked so deeply into the bunch
that they disappeared. The carnations were dyed to match the
rose, but it was wasted in their disappearance. The little bouquets
were round, and set in cheap glass. I would not put my face
into any of these, yet their multiple appearance made it obvious
that someone thought this was the right interpretation of feeling
for the occasion--over and over.
What was the difference? One way of understanding the relationship
of flowers to our emotions is to also qualify the intensely
personal nature of such feeling. Flowers when arranged slowly
and with grace, are allowed space to express their generosity.
Such designs are fluid and may have a touch of something special,
a texture or a beautiful pot, ribbon or stand, that sets it
apart. In such a presentation, the blooms may call out to be
experienced, to have your nose brought close for an intimate
inspection.
Compared to the FTD bouquet, the taste and sensitivity
of a high-standards floral designer is the difference between
doing something because you must, or because you desire. One
is duty the other is beauty. To best console an aching heart,
we run more easily from duty, but rather naturally seek out
beauty.
The Right Words
Flowers have the capacity to muster the muted
tongue to language again, particularly after a shock or loss.
Communicating condolences with flowers effectively sends the
special message of remembrance.
To console most anyone who has lost a beloved
someone, whether you were familiar with the deceased or not,
is to speak of remembering them. It is in memory that their
life is honored. Oftentimes it is helpful to ask them to speak
of the deceased. Bring your photos and memories to the funeral.
Recount your story of love, honor or friendship.
The tradition of consolation is expressed through
personal, sensitve acts of generosity, sometimes with cash,
displays of flowers, gifts or sympathy cards.
--Claire-France Perez, web designer
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