Flowers

I picked white lilies, white roses, pink lilies and some pink carnations. They made beautiful bouquet.

Mum would have liked the flowers, some are her favourite. I imagine she would give me a scolding if I gave her the bouquet, but I also know she would probably be touched and smiling inside.

"Beautiful flowers... Who are they for?" The nice florist asked as she carefully arranged them.

"for my mum..." I said, though with some hesitation at first, for I felt I was lying even though the truth is they really are for mum.

"She's a lucky mother. And you're a good son..."

I smiled, and said nothing. Was I, was I really?

The flowers are more than the scenery and beauty they bring into the room, they are more than just a symbol of remembrance as I commemorate one hundred days since mum's passing tomorrow. The flowers are from me to her, to tell her how I miss her, and how even she is no longer around, she is still my mother...