Carnations

I would often be amazed at her love for flowers. Several of my friends would often refuse flowers because they thought it’s not fair as they had to die however. “So do we, isn’t it ?” she used to say “does that make life any less beautiful ?”

‘Unconventional’ I would call her. For her ideas and the way she lived her life.

“Hey, which one of these would you call your favourite?” looking at the thousands of flowers in the nursery, I asked.

“Carnations.”

“Why though…?” I could only wonder looking at the dullness of it compared to the light in her eyes. Why would she choose these over all the colourful and fragrant ones out there. But they were very simple and elegant in their appearance. Not convincing enough, I thought to myself.

But was that really the way she would think about it while she felt she loved it ?

It was time she would answer his question. “ Something that adds to the beauty of both the beholder and the companion, a simplicity that outshines the colours and above all the stubbornness to stay, not perish while all the beautiful ones would already have. All of us need something like this in our life, don’t we?”

How I wished I could tell her that I was here to stay, before it was too late. Stubborn? Yes, she too was. She fought it, but she could not win.

With a bunch of carnations in my hand, now when I stand in front of where she now resides, I could only think of what she used to tell me whenever we were around flowers.

“Had you known you were going to live forever there had been no beauty in life, you know it’s gonna end someday, so you live..you celebrate. It could not have been otherwise. Anything that is beautiful is often short lived Aaron and that is what is so beautiful about it.”

Had I known she is not gonna be with me even a year, let alone forever, had I not held her and squeezed her and had my eternity embraced in my arms just for a few more minutes. I imagine her holding the same flowers walking down the aisle while I would wait for her with a ring in my hand. That was my forever, and I missed it, even if not for me she deserved it.

But late, as I always was. Short-lived, what my love story was. But isn’t everything that is beautiful has always been.

Author: thefinertasteoflife

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