Well, here it is Sunday, so yesterday must have been Saturday Centus. I know you’ll all understand that, yesterday, I worked a 12 hour shift, my third in a row, and that when I reached home, I ate a bag 100 calorie kettle korn, a handful of nuts, brushed my teeth and fell into bed with my 3 best friends. I slept for 15 hours. No, really, I did.
Each week, our Schoolmarm with a Heart, Jenny Matlock, hosts a meme called Saturday Centus. To learn all the rules and get a feel for the entries, please click the Saturday Centus button on my sidebar. You will not be disappointed.
And, please, take a look at Jenny’s blog “...off on my tangent...” She is a wonderful writer.
This Saturday’s prompt?
“April showers bring May flowers.” This is my offering for this week. It is in italics.
Arrangements of flowers decorated the house. The date, April 10, 1955, 36 hours since Estelle’s husband died in a car crash.
She and her four children, the youngest two months old, rode to the church in silence. Grandmother smoothed the childrens’ clothes and hair.
At the church, the perfume of the flowers assaulted Estelle’s senses, making her almost swoon, but she was not a woman to swoon. Head high and carrying the baby, she passed the open casket and made the other three look at their dead father.
“April showers bring May flowers?” She would never enjoy flowers again - never.
“(Estelle” was my mother).
© cjschlottman
5 years ago
11 comments:
Very heartfelt.
What a sad post, but I love a woman who shows the most strength at her weakest moment. Great job.
Wow, that's rough. How old were you, CJ?
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Tuberoses, which have the most divine fragrance, fell out of favor as cut flowers many years ago because people always sent them in arrangements to funerals. Everyone was reminded of death when they smelled them.
I can't believe she made you look at your dead father! That is so mean!
Excellent job ! A devastating experience for any young family. Great writing happens when we write what we know or experience. You captured every nuance and feeling beautifully.
We are at our best when we are at our worst .... that hurt.
Sometimes in grief adults just don't think of the lasting memories they can bestow on a child. An elderly friend of my grandmother's picked my little sister up and made her kiss my grandmother while she was laid out for viewing. I think that is horrible. Your post is poignant!Well done. ~Ames
so nice you were able to make your mother of part of this beautifully written sad story.
oh, how sad for you all ...
Moving portrayal of pain and stoicism.
I have done a review of your post...do check it out and let me know if I have done justice.
The autobiographical quality of this really makes it feel incredibly poignant.
I still cannot bear to be around dark red roses. They make me think of my Grandmother so profoundly it makes my heart ache.
Thanks for a moving gem of a story.
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