a lilac only blossoms after a harsh winter…

My Mom loved lilacs. Not just the color, but the smell. She really wasn’t a big flower person, but she always pointed out the lilacs. It was fun to see her go in for a big sniff and the smile that would follow.

In each of the homes I have lived in, there have always been lilacs. I don’t know how or why (I certainly didn’t plant them), yet there they were. Late bloomers and always a surprise…at least to me. When we moved into our present home in 2019 a bright green bush burst forth with tiny purple buds one late spring morning. Lilacs.

Of course, I immediately snapped a million photos and sent them to my Mom. What were the chances? Another lilac bush in the backyard! I had to wait a day for a full bloom and then I went in for the sniff. Lilacs.

When my mom was sick with COVID-19 in the hospital in May of 2020, our lilac bush bloomed. I sent her a photo not sure if or when she might see it. I was surprised when she responded almost immediately. She texted back, “They look beautiful. I love lilacs. They smell so good.” I told her that I thought the blooms were a good sign. She ended the text with a heart emoji. It was the last text she ever sent me.

Of course, the lilac bush bloomed in 2021 and it’s preparing to bloom again now in 2022. I can see its familiar bright green hue. I know that I’ll take a deep sniff when the purple buds open, but lilacs don’t bring me the joy they used to. Instead, they only remind me that life goes on. With resignation, I’m trying to accept that.

Empty Chairs, Everywhere is a personal grief diary as I process the loss of my Mother to COVID-19.