Eulogies Unspoken

People, are often like dandelions, unappreciated and misunderstood. Some, even being denied the right to be cultivated and bloom. Catching a glimpse of their sunny disposition, I hinted at a grin...

I closed my eyes and recited a poem for you. Mom, later I will write my word down and dedicate them to you: Like a dandelion, sunshine scattering the fields, supplying smiles for a season, then quietly fading; turning into seed. Flying away, perhaps one day, seeds will caress my cheeks. Like blown kisses across the distance; fond remembrances for a while.

I assembled a bouquet of the cheery dandelions for you--yellow and radiant. Making sure I plucked at the most brilliant ones, because of your unspeakable worth. The juvenile sentiment gave me a fleeting touch of warmth. Unable to withstand going to your grave, I gently placed them at the base of a nearby tree. We had been near this location before, together, during one of our late night "spins,"--laughing, talking, and sitting in my car, probably eating ice cream. Maybe, you remember?

Among the pretty dandelions were those with the puffy white seeds. Really though, they were equally as lovely. Each type reminding me of the seasons of life. Holding a white puffy dandelion in my hand, I deeply inhaled. Then, exhaling with all my love, I was releasing the seeds, high into the sky. Standing there in awe, watching, as they were drifting away. Today, it was my way of saying a prayer for peace. "Blowing kisses," to Heaven, from me to you.