A Time for Flowers

On this day three years ago, my daughter died. But I learned about hope in the face of the unfixable long before then.

When my first husband was diagnosed with terminal cancer and given a prognosis of between 2 weeks and 2 months to live, we embarked on a journey together to live his final weeks in just the way he wanted.

Because he was an otherwise young and healthy man, we were able to do things almost until the end that defied the seriousness of his illness.

We hiked in the woods. We took our boat out on the Potomac River and fished. He played guitar and I played piano. We listened to music and sang together. We watched silly movies and played with our dog. We had friends and family over and made dinner together.

During this time, a friend asked me, “How do you do it every day, knowing how little time you have left together, when all hope is lost?”

My reaction has infused the rest of my adult life in a way that I could have never predicted at the time. I told her, “I changed what I hope for.”

Years later, after I remarried and my first daughter was born with a severe and profound illness, I got to practice this every day.

Erin was not expected to live beyond 3 years of age and did not walk or talk. She needed full adult support for all things and her medical needs were complex. From the time of her diagnosis to each hospitalization and through to her final illness, I always hoped for her comfort, for symptom control, for my own courage and wisdom to support her fierce will to live, and for her strength and determination to meet her own goals.

We did good together, this little girl and her family. She lived her best life for 19 years and is the strongest and bravest person I have ever met.

Two days after Christmas 2019, she passed away. Along the winding road of her final illness, I changed what I hoped for in a fluid fashion as the reality of her condition presented itself over those weeks. Goals were adjusted daily, at times hourly in the face of her evolving symptoms. We were still working on bringing her home from the hospital just like all the other times. We set small goals for sitting up, getting in her wheelchair, taking small bites, weaning down supplemental oxygen, sleeping less.

Her needs showed up so subtly at times and so brutally loud at other times. In one of the subtle times, Erin communicated in only the way she could that she was tired. I saw in her eyes that this time, this illness was different. Her eyes were filled with gratitude and a quiet grace for what was next. 

Two hours before she died, my Hospice Music Comfort friends came to visit. Erin heard our voices lifted in prayer and hope for her continued peace and comfort. We sang in thanks and praise for her life and the impact she had on so many.

Saying goodbye to her was the hardest thing I have ever done. I hope it’s the hardest thing I will ever do.

Central to my own healing is music. Singer-songwriters who capture the essence of love, life, relationships, hardships, grief and rebirth help me put words to my own emotions and remind me I am not alone. Indeed, grief is both a universal human emotion and uniquely individual in its lived experience.

On a long car ride recently, the album I was listening to ended and Amazon streamed music to me based on my listening habits. In this way, I discovered Emily Scott Robinson’s, “The Time for Flowers.” I kept hitting replay; I had to learn every word, tears streaming down my face.

This song acknowledges the hard times and speaks of hope. It acknowledges the seasons of a heavy heart, and celebrates rebirth from dark times, calling us all to remember our fates are bound together.

I chose “A Time for Flowers” rather than “The Time for Flowers” for the title of this article to capture the fluidity of the seasons of our lives. There is not one time of darkness, nor one time of flowers rather many times of light and dark throughout one's life. In this way, we remember to savor the good times, notice them, be grateful when we are experiencing them. Likewise, we remember to hold on during the tough times as they will not last forever. Light and dark, sorrow and joy all live together in this life, intertwining in mysterious ways, undulating sometimes day to day, week to week, year to year.

This I know to be true. Even in the darkest of times when despair does win, hope is always within our reach....and a time for flowers will come again.

You have read this far…why not stay 4 minutes longer and enjoy Emily Scott Robinson’s “The Time for Flowers.” May you always be in hope, even in your darkest times.