I sent flowers twice this week. The first bouquet was to Amy who was on her way to England for work. They were delivered to her hotel near London Bridge. I was thinking that it would make her happy to see cheerful flowers in her room upon her arrival. It was surprisingly easy to arrange.
The second floral arrangement was sent a few minutes ago. I just sent flowers to my dad’s widow. They’ll be delivered tomorrow. He passed away today. We were estranged, so it isn’t deeply affecting me; but it has caused me some amount of sleepless reflection. I don’t know my dad’s widow very well. We only met on one occasion a few years ago and will probably never meet face-to-face ever again. She seemed like a nice lady when we met.
If you told me last week that I’d send two flower arrangements in the span of four days, I’d probably just frown in amused disbelief. Amy’s flowers were sent because I was feeling sentimental and I missed her, though she’d been gone for only a few hours and had probably only recently taken off at the time. My dad’s widow gets flowers because I felt compelled out of some kind of empathetic impulse.
That’s all I have right now.
Update (10/13/2017): I just sent another flower arrangement to my aunt in the St. Louis area. Her son, my cousin Donnie Mason, was found lifeless in Carondelet Park this morning. It’s very strange that two people in my family have died in less than a month.