My dearest,

Today the flowers did not bloom. They sit in a bud stuck to their home. I saw a child force one open breaking it’s petals apart as the remnants crumbled down to its feet below. The same flowers I used to give you. I feel they are hiding from me for a reason, yet the truth is I do not know if I can bare the look of it again. I would sooner blind myself to see it’s remnant blossoming. Sooner loose my smell than to even catch a whiff of what used to perfume my happiest memories. This flower is everything I know I can’t have with you, and everyone I morn. Leaving me the decision to greater burn the flowers existence of less myself to death knowing I can’t stand the thought of you not with me.

My love,

Today the flowers did not bloom. I waited for them all day and night, ready to be blessed with its beauty, and the memories of you to sooner flood my mind. I remember the day you scavenged them for me. Picking the wildest a bouquet could get, of flowers straight from the earth. A new ritual to never show the cycle of death, replacing each petal the second they started to show wilt. I wilt. Today. Without you I wilt. My lungs grow weaker. My legs more numb, as the days grow together. The day taste had no flavor I knew you were gone. Come back to me my love. Give my life meaning again. Give me a sign you still think of me. I see you everyday in my mind, as I wait for you.

Dear grandma,

Fathers starting to stair at the flowers again. I think mother’s flowers remind him to much of her, and not in a good way. He says she is still with us, and sometimes I think I hear her voice. I miss her but not as much as him. I think you should stay a few more nights after the funeral, watch the flowers bloom with him.