For fifty-seven years, my grandfather brought flowers to my grandmother every Saturday. A stranger brought a message and a bouquet a week after his passing.
“I kept something from you. Grandfather had written, “Go to this address.” My grandmother was frightened the entire drive, and we were both moved to tears by what we discovered.
I never thought I would see a love tale as poignant as my grandmother’s. However, something unexpected happened when my grandfather passed away, and this is how their story went on.
For fifty-seven years, my grandparents were wed. Their love was quiet and unassuming. It was the type that was present in tiny, regular actions that added up to a lifetime.
Something unexpected happened after my grandfather passed away.
My grandfather Thomas would get up early on Saturday mornings, sneak out of bed while Grandma Mollie was still asleep, and bring fresh flowers home.
On certain days, he collected wildflowers off the side of the road. At other times, farmer’s market tulips. And frequently, roses from the local florist.
When Grandma woke up, they were always there, waiting in a vase on the kitchen table.
One day when I was younger, I recall asking him, “Grandpa, why do you bring Grandma flowers every single week?”
He gave me a soft smile that caused the corners of his eyes to wrinkle. “Because, Grace, love is more than simply feelings. It’s your responsibility. Each and every day.”
They were always waiting on the kitchen table in a vase.However, it’s only flowers.”Dear, it’s never just flowers. It serves as a reminder of her affection. that she is important. that I would still pick her even after all these years.”
They didn’t need to make big promises about their love. Only time and petals.
I witnessed this procedure as a child. Grandpa continued to bring those flowers even on the Saturdays when he wasn’t feeling well. On occasion, I would take him to the market, where he would spend twenty minutes selecting the ideal bouquet.
Even though Grandma knew they would be there, she always pretended to be shocked when she saw them. She would arrange flowers perfectly, smell them, and give him a cheek kiss.”Thomas, you spoil me,” she would say.”Not feasible,” he would respond.
They didn’t need to make big promises about their love.
Grandpa Thomas died a week ago.
Despite being ill for months, he never voiced any complaints.
The doctors claimed it was cancer. It had softly spread, like certain things do when you’re not looking.
Until his final breath, Grandma clutched his hand. Sitting on the opposite side of the bed, I was also there, witnessing the man who had shown me what love looked like fade away.
The silence in that room was overwhelming when he was gone.
The days following the funeral were hazy. To assist Grandma sort things out, I stayed with her. His books. His attire. He always kept his reading glasses on the bedside table.
Despite being ill for months, he never voiced any complaints.
Without him, the house didn’t feel right. It was eerily still and terribly silent.
And Saturday morning arrived without flowers for the first time in fifty-seven years.
Grandma gazed at the empty vase while seated at the kitchen table. She didn’t sip the tea I made for her. She continued to gaze at the vase as if it were meant to contain more than just water.It’s peculiar,” she murmured. “How much you can miss something so small.”
I squeezed her hand from across the table. “He loved you so much, Grandma.”I am aware, sweetheart. I only wish I could express my affection for him once more.
Saturday morning was devoid of flowers for the first time in fifty-seven years.
The next Saturday, someone knocked on the door. I had no expectations. Grandma looked up from her drink, perplexed.
A man with a large coat was standing on the porch when I opened the door. He had a sealed mail and a bunch of fresh flowers in his hands.
I felt my heart skip a beat.Gently, “Good morning,” he said. “I’m here to support Thomas. After he passed away, he wanted me to give this to his widow.
My hands began to shake. “What?”The man said, “I’m sorry for your loss. Without saying another word, he turned and walked back to his car after giving me the mail and the flowers.
He had a sealed mail and a bunch of fresh flowers in his hands.
I stood motionless, clutching the bouquet as if it would vanish if I moved too quickly.”Grace?” Grandma called from within. “Who was it?”
Speechless, I stepped back into the kitchen. “Grandma, these are for you.”
Her face turned white as she gazed at the flowers. “Where did those come from?”A man. He claimed that Grandpa had asked him to deliver them. upon his passing.
When I gave her the envelope, her hands shot to her mouth. After a lengthy moment of staring, she opened it. I was afraid she could drop it because her fingers were trembling so much.
I held the bouquet as if it may vanish as I stood motionless.
Her voice broke as she read it out loud.Darling, I apologize for not telling you this sooner. I’ve kept something from you for the majority of my life, but you should know the truth. You must travel to this address immediately.
Grandma gazed at the letter’s address, which was written at the bottom.I said, “What do you think it is?””I’m not sure,” she muttered. Then she crushed her face. “Grace, oh God. “What if… what if there was another person?”No, Grandma.
Grandpa would not ever…Why would he, however, keep something from me? Panic swelled in her voice. “He said that throughout the most of his life. What does that signify?
The address at the bottom of the letter caught Grandma’s attention.
I took hold of her hands. “Together, we’ll figure things out. Whatever it may be.”With tears running down her cheeks, she asked, “What if I don’t want to know?” “What if it ruins everything?”It won’t. You were cherished by your grandfather. You are aware of that.
However, uncertainty began to creep into my thoughts as I was saying it.
We were silent as we drove.
Grandma’s hands were tense with anxiety as she gripped the letter in her lap. I continued to look at her, seeing the clenching and relaxing of her jaw.”Perhaps we ought to go back,” she replied abruptly. “Maybe I don’t need to know.””What if it destroys everything?”Grandma… “”Grace, what if he had another family? What if he was actually somewhere else on all those Saturdays when he claimed to be receiving flowers?
At that moment, my own misgivings began to surface.
About three years ago, Grandpa had stopped asking me to take him to the flower shop, I recalled. From then on, he promised to bring the flowers himself.
Every Saturday morning, he would be absent for several hours. Only for flowers?
Grandma’s voice finally cracked. “What if the flowers were his way of saying sorry?”
At that moment, my own misgivings began to surface.
Her skepticism was not a betrayal of affection. It’s what occurs when fear and grief collide and you’re too afraid to lose what little you have left. She wasn’t at blame for having pessimistic thoughts.
Your mind rushes to save you from further suffering when you love someone too much, even if it means conjuring up unthinkable scenarios.
I turned to look at her as I pulled up to the side of the road.Pay attention to me. I’ve never met a more honest man than Grandpa. This isn’t what you’re thinking, whatever it is.She cried, “How do you know?”because I observed how he gazed at you. Each and every day. Grandma, that wasn’t an act. That was true.
She wasn’t at blame for having pessimistic thoughts.
She put her hands over her face. “I’m scared.”I am aware. But remember, we’re working together on this.”
She wiped her eyes and nodded.
What secret could a man with so much love have?
I noticed a little cottage encircled by trees when we eventually arrived at the address. It appeared calm and pleasant.
Grandma remained stationary. “I can’t,” she said in a whisper. “Grace, I can’t go in there.”You can, indeed. I’m with you right now.”
I noticed a tiny cabin encircled by trees.
She opened the automobile door after taking a trembling breath. I knocked as we made our way to the front door.
It was opened by a woman in her fifties. She froze when she saw Grandma.”You must be Mollie,” she murmured. “I had been anticipating your arrival. Come in, please.
Grandma’s entire body stiffened.”Who are you?” I inquired.Ruby is my name. I was requested to do something for your grandfather. He wants you to see something.”
Grandma’s voice sounded little. “Was he… were you and he?”
It was opened by a woman in her fifties.
Ruby’s gaze expanded. “Oh, no. No, sweetheart. Not at all like that. More than anything in the world, Thomas adored you. Just come with me, please. You’ll comprehend.”
Grandma’s hand was firmly in mine as we entered. We were shown around the cottage by Ruby. She then unlocked the rear door.
And there it was. A garden.
An expansive, beautiful flower-filled garden. There are endless rows of flowers in every hue imaginable, including tulips, roses, wild lilies, daisies, sunflowers, and peonies.
Grandma’s knees gave way. She was staring at the landscape with her mouth open when I grabbed her and held her up.
We were shown around the cottage by Ruby.She muttered, “What is this?
Ruby took a step forward. “This property was purchased by your husband three years ago. He expressed to me his desire to create a garden in the backyard. A surprise for you. A gift for an anniversary.
Grandmother put a hand to her own chest. “He never told me.”Ruby said, “He wanted it to be flawless.” Every few weeks, he came here to assist with the planning. to select the flowers. He mapped out the beds and prepared the soil with my son’s assistance. He had a plan for everything.
I could feel my own tears welling up.”He would bring us pictures of you and say, ‘This is my Mollie,’” Ruby went on. These flowers must be deserving of her.He didn’t tell me.
Grandma was now crying uncontrollably.”He asked my son and me to finish it when he realized he didn’t have much time left,” Ruby recalled. For each segment, he wrote comprehensive instructions. How to arrange flowers and which ones to plant where. He didn’t want you to see it until after his death, but he wanted it finished before he died.”Grandma asked, “Why?”
“Because he said he wants you to know he’s still giving you flowers even when he’s gone,” Ruby added with a sorrowful grin. “I want her to realize that the Saturdays never truly end when she thinks they are over,” he remarked.
Grandpa’s love for Grandma blossomed, and not even death could stop it. She appeared to be in a trance as she entered the garden.Before he died, he wanted it finished.
She ran her hands across the petals. She came to a stop in front of a patch of roses, the exact sort that Grandpa had always brought on their anniversary.
She broke out in tears and fell on her knees. I bent down next to her and put my arms around her.”He continues to give me flowers,” she sobbed. “Even right now. even when I believed the affection had faded. even when I had my doubts about him.”
“Gramma, it’s not gone,” I muttered. “It’s right here.”She sobbed as she remarked, “I felt he had betrayed me.” “I thought those flowers were hiding something terrible.”Something lovely was concealed. He was acting in this manner.”I believed he had deceived me.
There was no secret about this garden. Soil and sunlight were used to write the last chapter.
Ruby approached Grandma and gave her another envelope.Only a few days before his death, he penned this. He requested that I deliver it to you here.
Grandma opened the mail with trembling hands. Over her shoulder, I read it.My sweetest Mollie,
I’m leaving if you’re reading this. However, I didn’t want to abandon you in quiet. As always with the flowers, this garden was for you.
I had carried this dream with me my entire life. Three years ago, I began organizing it. I wanted to give you something durable.
Ruby approached Grandma and gave her another envelope.
In this garden, every bloom is a Saturday morning. Each flower represents a commitment I fulfilled.
I hope you will come here when you’re missing me and realize that I loved you till the day I died. And beyond.
Our anniversary is the reason for the roses. Your favorite season, spring, is represented by the tulips. For all those bouquets by the side of the road, there are wildflowers.
My love, I’ll be here waiting for you. Every morning. in each blossoming flower.
Always yours, Thomas.
Grandma sobbed as she held the letter to her chest.”The roses are for our anniversary.”She muttered to the sky, “I’m so sorry I doubted you.”
Like her, I sobbed. Ruby dabbed at her own eyes.He was often talking about you,” she remarked. “Each time he visited. He claimed that choosing you was the best choice he had ever made.
Granny grinned despite her tears. “He was also mine. I’m grateful. I appreciate you helping him complete this.
Ruby gave a nod. “It was an honor.”
Since that first day, we have visited the cottage three times. We also intend to visit once a week starting this Saturday.
We bring folding seats, refreshments, and perhaps a book. The roses are watered by Grandma. I write notes to Grandpa in a journal while I sit among the flowers.He claimed that choosing you was the best choice he had ever made.
The garden is vibrant and flourishing.
Grandma brought home a bouquet of wildflowers she collected yesterday. She placed them in the kitchen table vase.She smiled through her tears and replied, “He’s still here.” “In every petal.”
She was correct, too. The love never ended. It just blossomed in a different way.
