The Florist
"Our beloved grandson passed away this morning." The words seeped off the screen and settled heavily on my heart. The email was from an aunt and uncle and was about my cousin's son who was born with a heart condition. My cousin-nephew was 18, and had endured more surgeries than Cher. Through it all he had kept his sunny disposition. His death, though a sad loss, was not a surprise. In a way, it might be seen as a welcome release.
Though the obituary asked for memorandums to be made to a bank account, I decided that a small bouquet of flowers would be far more personal. Snubbing my nose at those major flower distributors, I searched for a florist local to their city and placed the call.
"I'd like to send an arrangement," I told the nice older lady who answered the phone (probably the owner). "Do you have any Bird of Paradise?" I asked, hoping that they wouldn't charge me what I feared they would for a small arrangement of this classy and not over done flower.
"No, I'm sorry, we don't," she said regrettably, "they're super expensive, and it's Valentine's week, so they're even more expensive and nearly impossible to find."
"Oh, that's ok," I said, "well, um," I didn't have a back up flower selected, "I need to send flowers because someone just died. So, something classy, please. Oh, and no roses." She might have thought I was just being cheap. That wasn't it at all. Roses: way over done.
We talked about things, I dictated the card, and then got back to flowers. I told her what I wanted to spend, then she started making suggestions. "I think I'll put in this kind of flower, and that kind of flower." The both sounded ok, so I agreed. "And, I'll put in a sunflower." Before I could say, 'um, less on the sunflower' (I think they're way over done, especially in religious funeral arrangements. Looking forward, new life and all that.) she continued, "they've always really spoken to me, kind of giving hope and looking forward. They're my favorite flower." Ok, I was officially stuck. Looks like a sunflower was going in. "That sounds great." I said, thanking her. We finished up the transaction and I returned to my desk, slightly terrified that it was going to be a harvest bouquet of sunflowers and Gerber daisies. Beautiful flowers in their own rights, but not the feeling I was looking for.
The next day I got an email from my aunt thanking me for the flowers. Or, more correctly, "We've heard all about the lovely sunflower arrangement with a bird in it that you sent." Um, what? I triple read that. A sunflower arrangement with a bird in it? Oh, hells no! There is no way on Earth that I can possibly recover from that. I can only hope that the arrangement was salvaged by removing the bird. What. the. Hell?
Though the obituary asked for memorandums to be made to a bank account, I decided that a small bouquet of flowers would be far more personal. Snubbing my nose at those major flower distributors, I searched for a florist local to their city and placed the call.
"I'd like to send an arrangement," I told the nice older lady who answered the phone (probably the owner). "Do you have any Bird of Paradise?" I asked, hoping that they wouldn't charge me what I feared they would for a small arrangement of this classy and not over done flower.
"No, I'm sorry, we don't," she said regrettably, "they're super expensive, and it's Valentine's week, so they're even more expensive and nearly impossible to find."
"Oh, that's ok," I said, "well, um," I didn't have a back up flower selected, "I need to send flowers because someone just died. So, something classy, please. Oh, and no roses." She might have thought I was just being cheap. That wasn't it at all. Roses: way over done.
We talked about things, I dictated the card, and then got back to flowers. I told her what I wanted to spend, then she started making suggestions. "I think I'll put in this kind of flower, and that kind of flower." The both sounded ok, so I agreed. "And, I'll put in a sunflower." Before I could say, 'um, less on the sunflower' (I think they're way over done, especially in religious funeral arrangements. Looking forward, new life and all that.) she continued, "they've always really spoken to me, kind of giving hope and looking forward. They're my favorite flower." Ok, I was officially stuck. Looks like a sunflower was going in. "That sounds great." I said, thanking her. We finished up the transaction and I returned to my desk, slightly terrified that it was going to be a harvest bouquet of sunflowers and Gerber daisies. Beautiful flowers in their own rights, but not the feeling I was looking for.
The next day I got an email from my aunt thanking me for the flowers. Or, more correctly, "We've heard all about the lovely sunflower arrangement with a bird in it that you sent." Um, what? I triple read that. A sunflower arrangement with a bird in it? Oh, hells no! There is no way on Earth that I can possibly recover from that. I can only hope that the arrangement was salvaged by removing the bird. What. the. Hell?
posted by granola girl at 9:55 pm
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