In October 2015, my world changed forever when my twins, Nora and Jack, were born prematurely, a full 10 weeks before their expected arrival. It was a momentous occasion filled with mixed emotions. Tragically, my daughter Nora's fragile life lasted less than one hour on earth, leaving a profound void in our hearts. Meanwhile, her twin brother Jack embarked on a challenging 52-day journey in the neonatal intensive care unit (NICU). It was a period marked by intense sadness, worry, hope, and prayer.
Nora's brief life was celebrated and remembered on November 7, as we said our final goodbyes and laid her to rest. Jack, the fighter he is, eventually came home from the hospital on December 19. Our household was filled with both joy and sorrow, a dichotomy that felt overwhelming at times.
Then, on the morning of March 2, 2016, my brother called with the heart-wrenching news that our mother had passed away unexpectedly. She was just 53 years old, leaving us all in a state of shock and disbelief. In less than a year, I experienced more trauma, pain, and loss than I could have imagined. The weight of grief was nearly unbearable.
I knew I needed help to navigate this incredibly challenging period of my life. It was my therapist who encouraged me to commit to a year of self-care, recognizing the importance of healing and finding resilience within myself. Among the suggestions was spending more time in nature, a place where my wounded soul could begin to mend.
Nature became my sanctuary, offering solace and a sense of peace that was hard to find elsewhere. Being outside allowed me to escape the heavy burden of my grief, if only for a little while. I became acutely attuned to the beauty around me – the ever-shifting clouds, the steadfast trees, the melodious songs of birds. It was in these moments that I felt a glimmer of hope and a connection to something larger than myself.
But it was the flowers that truly captured my heart. Their vibrant colors, delicate petals, and the fleeting moments of joy they brought were a source of comfort and solace. I began to arrange flowers in my home, finding a sense of purpose and calmness in this simple act. When I'm arranging flowers, my mind quiets -- almost as if I'm meditating. The living, breathing beauty of the flowers became a metaphor for my own journey through pain and healing.
Yet, as with all things in life, the flowers eventually fade, their time in full bloom coming to an end. It was in this cycle of life and impermanence that I found profound lessons in resilience and acceptance.
Flowers played a significant role in my healing journey back to happiness. So, this October, to commemorate what would have been my daughter Nora's 8th birthday, I want to share the joy that flowers have brought me with my community.
I'd like to gift 8 flower arrangements to individuals in my community who could use a little more happiness in their lives. If you know someone who could benefit from this gesture of kindness, please nominate them and tell me why they should receive a flower arrangement, who it should be from, and how I can deliver it to them.
Thank you for joining me in spreading a little more joy during this season. Let's celebrate life, remember our loved ones, and find solace in the simple beauty that surrounds us – one bouquet at a time.