By Richard Mabey Jr.
My Mom loved flowers. Flowers abounded in the yard of the old Mabey Homestead. Lilac bushes, tulips, roses, daisies and peonies filled the front, side and back yards of my old home. Mom would have planted them firmly in the ground. But then there were the old red clay plots that Mom had scattered about. Mostly, on the side steps of our old farmhouse. In those old, chipped and weather-worn red clay pots would be violets, gardenias and petunias. The flowers that Mom planted and cultivated added such a magical beauty to our old home.
We never had an elaborate underground watering system, like most of the homes in Florida do these days. In dear old Lincoln Park, the flowers were watered by the old-fashioned watering can. As far back in time, when I was about six years old, I remember filling the metal watering can with water from the outside water tap, in the back of our house. I would then begin the task of watering the flowers. Even at a very young age, I remember it being a labor of love.
I’m writing this little column on the anniversary of my mom’s passing. Mom went Home to be with the Lord on the night of December twenty-third of 2019. Mom had had an Aortic Heart Valve replacement surgery in early November of that year. Sadly, the new valve did not take. It was a most sad and solemn time for my sister and me.
From early October of 2019, prior to her heart valve surgery, Mom frequently reminisced about the beautiful flowers that graced the yard of the old Mabey Homestead. Before Mom’s surgery, she was in and out of the hospital for several long-term stays during 2019. Mom would fall asleep in the afternoon, in her hospital bed for a couple of hours. When Mom would awaken she would talk about the beautiful flowers that she dreamt about.
I am not a man who holds a degree in theology, but I do believe that Mom was visiting Heaven for short times, during her afternoon naps. Mom would describe, in great detail, the beautiful flower gardens that she walked through in this wonderful place that she visited in her dreams. It was all very bittersweet.
Divine love is infinite in its quality. I believe that the love that passes all understanding has no boundaries nor limitations. It is a love that is forever forgiving. It is as gentle as a drizzling rain. It is as powerful as the rapids of the Colorado River. It is love that does not clash cymbals and knows no jealousies. It is a most perfect love.
I think that flowers are the gift of the Divine One to show us a hint of the beauty of Heaven. As I say, I am not a man who holds a degree in theology, but certain assurances, calmly abide in my heart.
Richard Mabey Jr. is a freelance writer. He can be reached at email@example.com. Please reference “Thoughts and Reflections” on the subject line.